A Moment of Discord
by Solitary Confinement
Summary: As the noble houses of Lindblum seek to overthrow the Regent, heroes from all paths are called together to prevent the ravaging of a wounded nation. A might as well be followup to Faraway Dreams. [Discontinued]
1. Introduction, part one

This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, many of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! _Remember, Italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events._

Enjoy...

* * *

:A Moment of Discord:

Pre-Story ramblings: This story contains within it many characters, settings, and ideas that I had created in my previous fan-novel, Faraway Dreams. I recommend reading Faraway Dreams first, if only to get aquatinted with the characters and places that will be seen within this story. It will, however, stand on it's own, which is why I shall refer to this as its own story rather than a sequel.

To anyone who already read Faraway Dreams, welcome! Thought I disappeared on you all, eh? I did, and fully expected to continue with other stories and not bother retouching on a finished novel. As time went on, however, ideas kept popping into my head and wouldn't go away. One day I just started writing, and I ended up with half of this chapter done! Needless to say, the further I ventured into this new plot, the more I fell in love with it and the more I wrote. Time for heroes from all paths to step back into the spotlight for one more round.

Okay, time to quit prattling and get on with it!

Introduction: The Past

It was known, like the remnants of some distant dream, that a drastic event had taken place on that particular day. However, like a dream, it was quickly forgotten and ignored. Only one man knew what happened, and when he beheld the effects of his work, he smiled grimly and hoped it was enough. If it wasn't, gods above, then he would know it soon enough. Yet as each day passed, he found that more and more his efforts were not in vain. On one particular afternoon, resting on his heels in the cleared streets of his hometown and homeland, he breathed a sigh of relief.

He had cheated the future of its massacre.

And so he let the anxiety go, and also the memory of the dream. He involved himself in the daily battles his people struggled against, earning friends and enemies as they days went on. He earned himself a lover and a great number of faceless enemies at the same time, all because he dared take a human as a mate. It was worth the glares, though; the whispering threats of pain and death, broken windows and near physical brawls. He had love, and what man would wish not to have it? So the days went on, the sun rose and fell and the city picked itself up from the ruins it was before. They bought their own house near the mountainside, a lofty habitat with wide windows and a private deck to watch the city and it's rain. They did their best to eke out a living, and did quite well at that.

Things, however, continued to move. While his dreams remained aimless and base, it wasn't the only way to foreshadow an event that would need a drastic solution. If one looked hard enough, you could see the future coming and the dangers locked within that impossible to predict frame of time. Was it something worse than before? Could it be prevented? It was, once.

Why not again?

Part One: The Present

"So what's for breakfast?" Ruthy slung her arms over his shoulders as he stood by the stove.

"Eggs with spiced cheese, bread, and butter." He replied, leaning his head back to nuzzle her own. "That good enough for you?"

"It's sufficient, but I might need something extra." She stole a kiss off his cheek, then walked to get a fresh pitcher of water from the cistern outside.

Fedrich grinned, unable to feel anything less than blessed by the gods to be where he was. Dragon Knight. The title was familiar to him after the years, a title he bore with pride and honor. From a Regulator to a Hunter to a Knight, his rise from humble beginnings was a testament to the gains one could reap if determined enough. It was in Lindblum those six years ago that he met his friends, became as strong as he was, and met the love of his life in a most unexpected source. A burman and a human, together as close as lovers could be. Such a mixing of races had never been socially acceptable, and was so rare that most people didn't know what to do with themselves. Most simply scorned them while a few tried their best to be happy for them.

His parents were divided between those camps. Mother was happy while father just fumed. He wished his son would earn recognition by being a great warrior, not a social misfit.

"You gonna let them burn, Fed?" Ruthy asked.

He looked down, noting the eggs were shriveling badly. "Oops." He lifted the pan from the fire and quickly slid them onto the metal flatware plates for him and her. He took a loaf of bread and broke it between them, then took a mug of water for himself and sat down.

"It's a good thing _someone_ pays attention to cooking here." She smirked as she took a tentative bite of the egg. "Still good, though. You're getting better."

"I've got the best teacher for the task." He ate slowly, savoring the spicy flavors the cheese added. "You're still better at it."

"Then why cook yourself?"

"I might as well learn something from you, if not a sarcastic wit. Without new training at the court, I'm in a slump of routine. That's exactly why we're going to spend the day wandering the city and doing as much as we can."

"I'm glad you got a day off, but are you sure about going out together?"

He frowned lightly. Ruthy was always uncertain of herself whenever out in the public these days. It used to be her favorite thing to do, walking amidst society and maintaining a cheery attitude towards everyone. Not that she now feared the people or their words, but rather that it would be a constant for them regardless of where they went. Some days it was evident that she needed to get some time away from Burmecia and visit her sister and all of humanity in Lindblum.

"We'll go." He insisted.

"Right." She sighed. "Can't let them win, you know. If they want to be pig-headed about it, let them!"

Fedrich finished his tankard of water, wiping his mouth with a cloth. "True enough, love. I've always liked playing the radical."

"You've just like playing anything but normal." She countered, finishing her meal. "You want to stoke the fire for a bath?"

"Yeah, I still feel matted from yesterday."

He stood and cleared his plates into the wash basin, then snatched a small torch from the stove and walked it to the bathhouse in the rear of their home. He thrust it into a brick enclosure below the iron tub, igniting the dry kindling and starting the flames strong. Pulling a lever up top, it opened a pipe to let water fill the tub half full. It took a few minutes until the water was steaming hot, and he stripped and lowered himself in. Hot baths in a private home were a rare luxury for the land of eternal rain, and took a lot of money to afford. Public bathing was most common, but one look and Ruthy was too embarrassed to even step in the ladies house. She was so pink compared to everyone's gray, silver, or sandy fur.

_'It's a good thing I earn so much as a Knight. Ruthy was practically red when she first went there. Heh, brings memories of boiling water in pots over the stove and getting a bath done in an hour.'_

He scrubbed himself clean with a bar of old soap, grooming his fur precisely and getting the snarls out of his silver-blonde hair. He only cut it once since he came back home, and it was currently down past his shoulders and tied with a red twist of cloth. Finished, he drained the tub and dried himself as best he could, humidity making everything permanently damp. He donned a pair of old leather breeches and a shirt and vest of roughspun wool, bound his feet, and combed through his hair one last time. It was almost reason enough to cut it again, but he preferred it long.

He found Ruthy sitting by the fireplace, reading one of her many thick tomes. She was dressed in a conservative pair of pants and blouse, a long leather coat across her shoulders to cover her from the rains. It was one of the few things she bought while in Burmecia, the rest she had to get on a special trip to Lindblum.

"You ready to go?" He asked.

"Just a sec." She replied, hastily reading the lines before marking the page and placing it down. "Okay."

"Let's be off, then."

They unlocked the front door and stepped into the chill morning air, a light rain pouring on the mountain city. Closing it and locking it secure, they stepped into the rains and down the avenues to the business streets and the Daines Market. The sky was covered by a solid layer of dark clouds, the rain apparently unable to decide between staying put or leaving. Everything was bathed in the grayness, illuminated by the sun yet casting no shadow in a sort of happy medium between light and dark.

"So you have anything in mind to get?" Ruthy asked.

"Nothing in particular. I'm sure I'll think of something to get while we're about."

"I need to get some more ink and parchments, so I'll need to stop by Grenda's, too."

"That's right! How is your play coming along?"

"As well as to be expected." A reply with no real answer.

Fedrich knew it mostly meant that she hadn't made as much progress as she hoped to make. Since moving in with Fedrich, she had found herself with a great deal of free time to spend. Fedrich's salary as a Dragon Knight paid for all their expenses and then some, so she wasn't forced to work out a living. Instead, she kept her efforts up with crafts and reading, earning much knowledge in the fields. She had actually started her own play several months ago, yet all she seemed was disappointed in it. He hoped that she would get past whatever obstacles that barred her.

"It's hard to believe that this place looks so rebuilt." Ruthy commented. "I remember that it was a ruin when I first came."

"Just goes to show that Burmecia won't stand to be left in pieces. Even if it was just a few, we'd still try and make the best of things." Fedrich looked around the streets, seeing that many houses were still abandoned. "It still feels empty, through."

"It'll take time for everyone to come back home."

"Hopefully."

Half-finished homes stood by the dozens as they walked, waiting for someone to complete them and move in. Men and women alike heaved stones into place for the walls and foundations of new buildings, stonemasons cutting the rock to precise dimensions. What once was a city renowned for blacksmithing and forging had become a center for architects, masons, and anyone with a knack for raising a house up from the wet earth. It had been four years since Burmecia fell, and there was still much to be done before it fully recovered.

They entered one of the primary streets that cut through Burmecia like a knife, a central path of commerce and travel. Already it was filling with people in the daily rush for fresh food and materials to continue their work, and the two picked their way through them. They stepped into a small tavern to escape the crowds and to get a listen to the local news.

"Good mornin' to you, Sir Fedrich!" The barkeep saddled up next to the counter, resting thick limbs on the wood. "Come for an early drink, eh? Or is it just news?"

"Just news, Gavin." Fedrich rested on the counter as Ruthy waited by the door.

"Well, rumors are still flying about that damn beastie up in the high hills making trouble for the castle guards."

"Ah, the pale dragon."

Gavin arched an eyebrow. "A pale dragon? Last I heard it was a nasty ol' Ironite."

"Nope. I hunted that dragon along the crags and stones just yesterday. The thing ducked into a cave and lost me. It must be a smart one to think of that. I've never even seen a dragon that looked like it, all pearly and white like it'd seen a ghost."

"Feh! Well, I guess I'll be havin' to change my story then. Anywhile, there's nothing but the usual things floating around, thieves along the walls and maidens accusing the guards of improper advances. Also heard one about you. Apparently you enjoy sleeping with humans, burmans, and Qus, and that you're secretly a ringleader for the whores in town."

Fedrich had to restrain himself from laughing. "Oh goddess, the things they come up with!"

"I guess the old women gotta have something to gossip about."

"True enough." He slid a ten piece to the barkeep. "I'll be around later, perhaps."

"Then have a good day, Sir, and don't be enticing any Qus, neither!"

Fedrich stepped outside and tugged his vest around his shoulders, looking at Ruthy. She was staring out at the crowds, reflecting on the hustle of Lindblum's own streets. He couldn't blame her. Even he missed the rush of the Grand Castle, the constant din of Airships and bartering patrons lining the Business District streets. Only the patter of rainfall was a constant in Burmecia, and that wasn't a suitable replacement for the redhead's childhood home.

"You ready?" She asked.

He nodded. "Yep."

They entered the current of people moving up and down the street, heading towards the Daines marketplace. Located near the primary gate into Burmecia, it was the essential center of commerce for the city. It was also the only place that merchants from other nations and lands set up shop. For Ruthy, it was a necessary place to go to whenever they went out.

"So do you have any idea about what your new assignments are?" She asked.

Fedrich shook his head. "No."

"I just hope you aren't assigned to Gizamaluke's Grotto again. That place was just too _dark_ to live in."

"It wasn't all that bad, was it?"

She gave him a sidelong look. "Not for you, maybe, but for those of us who get nervous in cramped spaces it can be. I swear you couldn't take a single step without whacking your leg on a rock."

He chuckled. "Don't worry. I think I'll end up being assigned to the King's Guard again since Lady Freya is spending so much time abroad. I'm surprised that our King Hiryuu allows her to wander the continent so freely."

"Well, she is a renowned hero for fighting Alexandria's mage army and stopping them from killing the prince."

"I suppose..."

"Guess being a hero gives you all kinds of perks."

Fedrich pursed his lips. _'Only if you ever are recognized for what you do. I can't very well tell everyone that I averted a disaster that would've meant the end of Burmecia forever.'_

The crowds around them suddenly parted, and a formation of ten guards came jogging up the street in full battle attire. Fedrich's eyes spotted the crest of Gizamaluke's battalion sewn on their chest, a simple blue patch with a yellow arch in the center. The lead man hurried ahead, shouting for everyone to step aside.

"You there! Move over!" He barked at the two.

"What's going on?" Fedrich asked, stepping to the side.

The lead man broke away from his unit, waving the others on. He flinched when he recognized the person he spoke to. "Oh, Sir Castor! We're en route to the royal court to alert the council of a danger rising in the lands."

This sparked Fedrich's attention. "What kind of danger? Another military threat?"

"No, Sir! Some of our people within Lindblum and its neighboring cities have been hearing talk from the nobles about their rights being impressed on. Somehow those nobles are thinking that the three great nations are too strong, and that there needs to be a redressing of the balance between royalty and nobility."

"That doesn't sound dangerous at all. The nobles are always complaining that they aren't given the respect due to them."

"I would've passed it off as the same, except for this report." He pulled out a parchment from his travel cloak. He opened it up and read. "Reporting from Kohlingen, eastern territory of Lindblum. A large number of hirelings have been flooding the streets, simple men-at-arms and professional soldiers for hire. The Highguard family has made a public speech against the Regency, talking of restoring statehood to Kohlingen from east of the Ceebel River and all of the Metalark shores. The local militia, the Nanten, has been on active training and formation marches. All signs point to an eventual march, destination uncertain."

Fedrich absorbed the information as best he could, wondering what kind of danger this Nanten militia proved to be. Most noble houses only employed small garrisons to their manors, making them only a paltry defense against any sizable army. "So what does this have to do with Burmecia?"

"That's why we're going to the royal council with this. It may be an internal problem for Lindblum, but it could also be a good chance to strengthen ties with them by offering help."

"I see..." He reflected for a moment. "Alright. Your name is?"

"Kyrk Tandoor. Sergeant." He snapped a quick salute.

Fedrich returned the gesture. "Be on your way, Sergeant, and leave a note with the Dragon Knights about the council's decision."

"Yessir!" He turned and ran to catch up with his men, the streets returning to normal.

"A war against Lindblum?" Ruthy looked nervous. "Why would the nobles want to do that?"

Fedrich was also at a loss. He thought of Gordan and Illis Fulmen, his noble friends from Lindblum that he met back in his youth during his time as a Regulator. Both were competent warriors, Gordan working to restore his family name from its failures and Illis merely looking to earn money for an easy life after a harsh childhood. Now Gordan was merely concerned with the finances of his business and the welfare of his family and friends, and Illis was always doting over their children, whatever quest for danger she had dulled by motherhood. They didn't seem the types to want a war against the Regent. However, he knew that one man alone wasn't a good means to base his opinion of all nobles on. There were plenty of greedy men in the world, and greed was rarely easy to sate.

"Can't say I know for certain."

"Does this mean you have to go to the castle?"

He smirked and patted her shoulder. "Normally, except today is my day off."

> > >

Ulrich Bronzehands rested against the wall of the establishment, legs crossed as he waited for his meal to arrive. The cafe was a well-known stop for travelers in Kohlingen, especially to those who preferred taking the coast to Alexandria rather than the interior of the plains. It was one of the few truly safe places for the burman to relax and not worry about looking out of place. Being an agent for the Burmecian advance guard unit gave him the freedom to do as he please, but kept him in constant danger. The letter he just sent was more than enough evidence to get him arrested for spying on another government. At least, that is what the noble court would declare, despite that they weren't yet an official state.

"Here's your meal, Sir." A waitress declared, setting a platter of roasted duck and greens before him. "Is there anything else you need?"

"No, but you have my thanks."

"You traveling?" She pried, staring.

He ignored the look. To him, humans with their pale skin and lack of fur was as odd as being coated in silver fur and having a tail. His ears twitched in annoyance. "Just making my way to Treno is all."

"Oh...Well, have a pleasant stay."

"That I will." He muttered, turning to his meal and ending the discussion.

The meal was sub-standard, another of the minor details about his current mission in this small town. For once, he'd like to enjoy a thick black ale straight from the breweries in Burmecia, but there was naught to be found but the pale stuff. He swilled it down, at least thankful that it didn't choke too badly. Once done, he stood and left the building, glancing around the busy intersection.

_'Soon I'll have to make my final report and leave. This place is turning into a military outpost on short notice.'_

He took a leisurely stroll through the town, always amazed that it was little more than a business center and housing for the noble's workforce. Everyone seemed to work in the afternoon and the nights were filled with rambunctious noise as everyone relaxed from their days labors. He often wondered if there was someone here that didn't do work for the nobles.

He turned to an alley and rested on the cool wall, drawing out a wood pipe stocked with smoking weed. He took a match and struck it sharply, but the tip didn't light. He discarded it and tried another with no luck. Several more followed.

"Damn, can't a man have a smoke?"

"Smoking isn't good for your health, my good fellow." A feathery voice replied.

Ulrich spun to face the voice, and he saw that there was someone in the entrance of the alley. He, at least it _sounded_ like a he, was dressed in thin breeches and a silken shirt, a pair of white leather shoes on his feet. He lifted a jewel-crusted glove to slip a lock of deep purple hair behind an ear, his grin small but menacing on his lips.

Ulrich frowned. "I'll smoke if I feel like it."

The feminine man crossed his arms. "Well, I can't very well tell you what to do or not to do, can I?"

"No, so be a good boy and leave a man to his peace."

"I would, except you're guilty of something that cannot be overlooked, my dear _spy_."

"Spy? What could I want to spy on here, the dirt?"

"Oh, don't try and play innocent with me, my friend. You see, I have spies of my own, and they all agree that you've been here far too long for a mere traveler. Isn't Treno but a short hop from here?"

Ulrich slid his pipe back into his pocket, hand caressing the pouch containing his weapons. Flipping it carefully, he fingered a number of thin metal slivers. With a flourish thanks to his limber muscles, he gripped and threw one of his many throwing knives. The man ducked to his side and avoided the attack, the blade clattering against the wall. He threw one after another, yet the purple haired man avoided each as if dodging a blind man's advance. Ulrich's final knife sailed with no effect, and he then gripped a dagger from his belt and charged. A rush of cool air crawled over his fur, and something impossibly _frozen_ erupted through his chest. He looked down and saw a spire of ice had pierced his body, blood running slowly down its crystalline surface. He looked back to the man, and he was sauntering over with a smile.

"You see, stopping to smoke can be more dangerous than it seems." The man chuckled again.

Ulrich tried to defend himself, but was unable to act outside the numbing pain in his body. The man smiled wider, stopping exactly three steps from the injured burman. He lifted a hand up, and a dazzling flurry of sparkling dots swirled around his body and focused on his palm.

"From the plane of life to the plane of death." The man incanted. "X-Zone."

A sudden gust of wind rushed through the alley, and Ulrich felt the ground shift and slide. He looked down, and the cobblestone below him was covered in an inky blackness that swirled and writhed as if alive. Suddenly the black began pulling him down, and he sank into the morass of tingling darkness. He gargled out in panic, unable to form words as the darkness began sucking him downwards. He stared with wide eyes it stole him away from the alley and into another place absent of sensation.

Something in that place moved, growled like thunder, and he knew that he wasn't alone.


	2. Introduction, part two

This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, many of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! _Remember, Italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events._

Enjoy...

* * *

:A Moment of Discord:

Part Two: No Shelter

"So, in order to facilitate better relations between myself and your family, do I bid you welcome to my manor in Lindblum upon the thirtieth of the month. I shall be expecting you all, not for the matter of discussing business, but to enjoy one another's company in good times and in good health. Sincerely yours, Gordan Fulmen."

A flourish of a signature, and the letter was complete. He folded it twice, sealed it with wax, and marked it with the sigil of his family name, a mechanics wrench and a bird feather. This, the sign of the strongest privately owned Airship business, would draw the attention of anyone who saw it. Gordan hoped, deeply, that they would come and give him a chance to make amends for the wrongs he did them.

"Kurin, I hope that you will get this to the Listers in the greatest of haste?" He asked his moogle attendant.

The critter, all fur, wings, and pink bobble on its head, nodded while accepting the note. "I'll get there as quick as I can. My wings aren't that bad!"

"You are still old for a moogle, are you not? Seventeen years of service, if I recall. Many do not live past a dozen."

"That's something I don't like to think about, kupo."

"Understandable, my friend." He smiled. "Good fortune on your trip."

"I'll give Artemeticon a run for his record, I will! Kupo!" Kurin declared, and with a flip and flutter of wings, sped out of an open window and into the skies of Lindblum's evening traffic.

Gordan exhaled on a calm note, always eased of his worries by the ever optimistic attitude of the moogle. Ever since he had acquired the seat of power for the Lindblum section of Gestahl Industries, he has been stuck in a mire of troubles. He no longer had the luxury to assume that everything would work out all right. Now he had to make doubly sure that all plans were secure, that all customers were satisfied, and that all people in relation to the business were willing to cooperate with his actions. Incidents such as the problem with Fray Lister were the bane of his labors.

_'I know that Fray is not the type to keep a grudge. Hopefully a sign of good faith will turn him back.'_

He looked at his desk, the solid oak frame covered with so much paper that you couldn't see the surface. He knew that there was much to be done, as there always was. However, he had plans for this night, and work wouldn't keep him from them. She came before work, ever and always.

_'Sometimes I still cannot believe that we have come together like this, her and I. She was such a firebrand when we met, a cold and steely rebel who sought to earn herself a living for herself and sister. Then came our short time with Fedrich and the Festival, and everything changed. Her brother's wrath, my uncles assassin, the Alexandrine conquest and the end of days. How many bonds have we forged in the heat of our history?'_

Standing, he smoothed his pants down and left his office for his bedchambers. He passed across the length of the manor, passing over the greatroom and by numerous guest quarters. A quick stop in his bedchambers to discard simple clothes with something more formal, and he was ready. Passing through numerous halls and up several flights of stairs, he passed through a narrow doorway and onto the rooftop courtyard of his manor.

"Illis!" He called out.

Hearing his voice, she stood from her place in the grass and turned to face him. In a modest summer dress and soft velvet shoes, not one person would suspect that four years ago this woman was a warrior outclassed by few in the continent. Only he could appreciate how much she had changed. Her hands were smooth rather than callused, her frame gentle instead of tough with muscles. Upon their nuptials, she had foresworn the sword and instead taken up the rule of motherhood.

And what a mother she was.

"Ah, I see you remembered that you're married!" She laughed, approaching.

"You know I remember, my heart, but my employers and associates do not." He swept her up in a tight embrace, kissing her lips briefly. Immediately two pairs of hands began tugging on his pants, and he looked down to their owners.

_'My children...'_ He never gave up the wonder and shock of surprise that he was a father. Of all the things he was in life, a father was something he never thought of. When Illis became pregnant, he showed little concern for what it meant. Only after the midwives allowed him into their bedroom did it strike him. This little baby, a fragile pink body, was his son. Not but a year later did he have yet another child, and again he was stunned at the wonder of what they had created.

"Alvard and Leon!" He smiled, stooping to grip his sons as well. "How are my little hawks?"

"Daddy, I caught a grasshopper and it got away!" Leon boasted.

"Did not!" Alvard disagreed, pointing to the bushes near the edge of the yard. "I found it! It was over there."

"I found it!" The other cried loudly.

"Do not argue, now." Gordan insisted, standing. "Were you both good today like you promised?"

At this they agreed, nodding vigorously. He looked to his wife, and she smiled knowingly. Children were children, and being good was always a difficult thing to label. They had to have been better than normal, since Illis wasn't angry and neither were the two. He looked at them, seeing that they were hanging on his next words.

"Were they good enough, Illis?"

"I dunno..." She mused, grinning wickedly.

"I was! I was, really!" Alvard barked. "I didn't chase the kitties today! I petted them and called them good kitties like you told me to!"

"Okay." Gordan chuckled. "I believe you."

"So can we go?" Leon pressed, eyes wide as saucers.

"Yes we can."

Both boys squealed with joy, hugging their father's legs before running for the doors to the Airship dock.

"Slow down, you two!" Illis called after them in a futile gesture.

Gordan put an arm around her shoulders, hugging her close. "How are things today?"

"The same as ever." She leaned into his body. "They run me ragged. Give them a tiny grain of sugar and nothing stops them except the promise of _more_ sugar."

"At least they didn't torture the cats today."

"Leon tried to pull their tails, but Alvard just scared them away. I guess that counts as being nice, although I don't know where he gets off saying he called them nice kitties."

"It matters little."

"At least they behave whenever you put a chance to travel on the Blackjack on the line. I swear those two were born to fly but weren't given wings. Nothing ever gets them as excited as that."

"Agreed." Gordan was certain it was his blood that made the two so fidgety. They liked the skies so much that it took strong arms to drag them inside each night, and plenty of time to convince them to sleep in their beds. Gordan no longer needed mechanical alarm to wake him each morning, both boys woke at the crack of dawn and leapt on him until he gave them permission to go outside. Their doctors agreed that if they had wings they would fly away and never be seen on land again.

"It's good for them, though. They'll be hale and healthy in the free air instead of being cramped up in a dusty house."

"They have privileged lives, Illis, and will be better off than most children in the city. Here they enjoy the open skies beyond the walls, whereas everyone below gets a fraction of that. I know that they will make full use of their gifts."

"I hope so."

Husband and wife opened the door to the docks, and the boys flew down the steps in a mad rush to get there first. Illis chuckled and hurried after them while Gordan took his time. He had set aside an extra two hours to board the Diamond Blackjack, the icon Airship of the Gestahl Industries, to have a dinner overlooking the Mist Continent and the southern islands. Afterwards they had a meeting to attend in Kohlingen to talk with the Highguard family of a potential business deal. Rumors of unrest among the nobles aside, he still felt something queer about the sudden interests in a large-scale Airship for a single family. Most were happy with Mortani or even Clipper classes, yet they wished to talk about a completely custom made craft. It was a great chance to earn revenue, but still bid hundreds of unspoken questions.

Out of his thoughts, he passed under the archway to the grounds of the dock, wife and children already ascending the gangplank to the interior of the Airship. Gordan hurried inside, passing his thanks to the workers before helping to raise the plank and seal the doorway. Illis waited for him by the tables of the betting lounge.

"So what's for dinner?" She asked.

"Nothing entirely fancy, just breaded fish with soup and salad, plus the usual."

"What about iced cream?" Alvard asked.

"Not today."

Alvard frowned and sulked. Both children had taken a liking to the new treat, a sweet mixture of milk, vanilla, sugar, and ice all ground to a smooth blend. Of course, as is with all things sugary, it made them unruly and hyperactive for hours on end. The Airship lurched, the dull while of the engines becoming audible from the back.

"Come on, let's say goodbye to the city!" Illis took her children to the glass wall, the Airship gaining elevation as the engines warmed up to flight speed. "Goodbye, house!"

"Bye bye!" Her sons replied, waving to the stone and mortar manor.

"Goodbye street!" Illis continued as the Airship began to accelerate forward, now almost level with the walls of the Grand Castle. The edge of the walls near their house had a gaping hole in it, a remembrance from the innumerable deaths caused by Alexandria and it's mad quest to dominate the continent and the world. Luckily their manor wasn't in that zone of destruction, but it still suffered a lot of exterior damage. The Blackjack itself had to be grounded twice for repairs to the hull and then to replace the engines. As they continued to gain altitude, the city became smaller and smaller until it looked like a children's model on a store shelf. Illis waved one last time along with her boys. "Goodbye, Lindblum!"

"Bye bye, Linbum!" They said together before breaking away and going to play on the tables.

Illis stood and smoothed her dress, watching as the city faded away into the fog of distance and the land below dropped away from the plateau. Gordan stepped up next to her, putting at arm at her waist and holding her close. They watched as the city disappeared completely, leaving the modern and crowded thousands within those walls. Gordan felt a sense of fleeing civilization take hold, knowing that no other city on Gaia was as large or populated as his own. Everywhere else was smaller, simpler and down to earth. Kohlingen was literally a town built around a grand manor, sporting few of the luxuries he was used to.

"Do you ever get lonely whenever you leave Lindblum?" Illis asked suddenly, looking at him with her deep brown eyes.

"In a way I do, but only because I miss the things we have that others do not." He buried his head into her red black hair, smelling her body and her essence. "So long as I have you and our sons, then I will never feel truly lonely."

> > >

The sun was holding just over the horizon, the skies stained red and orange in the prelude to twilight and nightfall. The Highguard manor, a massive building almost worthy of the title castle, looked unearthly and bloody as the sun shone across its stone walls. In the rear courtyards, in six lines and twenty abreast, stood the best men from the Nanten militia that protected it. Dressed in full battle attire, weapons sheathed at their hips and helmet visors flipped down, they stood still as statues. Pacing before them, in pants, blouse, and bleached white travelers cloak, was their Captain. She stared at them as she walked the lines, silent and sinister.

They hadn't moved in nearly two hours.

Flaure didn't grin or even make a gesture that indicated her feelings. She merely walked, threading between the lines and staring at her soldiers as they sweltered in the sun. It was the best test of obedience and endurance, she found. A man must be incredibly loyal to stand in the sun for hours without moving or command. He would also have to be strong and lasting to merely keep on his feet with thirty pounds of metal added to their bodies. Only those who were truly fit to be warriors could last this kind of test, and so far, all of them had kept up with the demands.

"You still got 'em here?" A brash voice pierced the silence in the courtyard, coming from door to the kitchens.

Flaure looked to see who it was, not surprised at all to see Desmond Cutler staggering out with a flask in hand. He had a terrible liking to alcohol, and tended to be drunk half the day and unconscious the other. Supposedly he was a master thief and spy, but he didn't seem capable of the stealth to sneak by the dead. She didn't reply to his comment, continuing to inspect the lines.

"Aye, you're an odd one, alright." He stumbled on his feet, almost falling into the lines of knights. "What's the point of making perfectly decent men stand like fuckin' rocks all day?"

Flaure again ignored his statements. She was bound to stay silent as well for this test, and would only speak when giving her men an order. The psychological effects were already ruined with this interruption to the solitude. Her men would be focusing on the drunkard rather than their orders, and that was deadly in the battlefield.

"What'sa matter? You don't feel like talkin' to me, is it? I can tell yer busy, but you could spare me a word?"

She gritted her teeth, wishing the man to go away in search of more booze or a wench to fool with. A shock of warning ran electric down her spine, sixth sense waking with a scream of danger. Her testament to being a Captain at age twenty one, and a woman at that, was her unusual ability to 'feel' the presence of everything around her body. Smoothly, she took her sword in scabbard and spun it behind her. A shriek of metal sounded, and a dagger went spinning into the air to clatter on the ground some feet away. Flaure held the sheath in place, noting a scar in the metal embossing that ran the length of the leather. Her eyes fell on Desmond, the drunk flipping a dagger point over hilt and catching it as easy as a ball.

"All I want is a word, milady Highguard, and that's not much to give, is it?" He appeared inebriated, but his eyes shone through as being dangerously sober.

Flaure pursed her lips, but kept quiet. She collected the fallen dagger and threw it back at the hireling's face. He caught it on the blade with insulting ease, fingers pinning the edge a few centimeters from his nose. Siding it back to his belt, he grimaced and rubbed his bearded face.

"I guess that you nobles are too stinkin' _noble_ to give out yer words. You want money for 'em or something?"

Flaure shook her head.

Desmond growled in defeat. "Gads! You try and hold a conversation with some people, and all you get is trouble fer it!"

He ambled away from the courtyard, heading for the gates and to the town. She hoped he would get into a fight in a bar and get himself killed. If it were up to her, she would torture him by keeping him completely sober for his natural lifetime. Sliding her sword back into the loop in her belt, she resumed her observation of the Nanten soldiers. She was pleased with their actions, however. Even as her life appeared to be in grave danger, none of them moved to help her or to detain the man. They followed their orders exceptionally well.

She went to the front of the ranks, faced her men, and allowed a meager smile to grace her lips. "Dismissed."

The Nanten all saluted, then filed out of the courtyard and the armory outside the manor walls. Flaure breathed a sigh of relief, then made her way to the upper terraces where she knew a chair would be waiting to comfort her stiff legs. Up stairs she went and, when she came to the terrace proper, was disappointed to see her brother sitting in one of the two lounge seats.

"You have an odd way of testing the mettle of our knights, sister." Roy commented.

"It is the best way to make sure they will follow orders and not buckle in a fight, brother." She seethed.

"I suppose it might. Take a seat."

Flaure sat on the opposite chair, uncomfortable even on the padded cushions. Her brother, older than her by a year and born a man, was the real commander of the Nanten army. Despite that they both were Captains, he held the final authority over the orders given to the soldiers. He was weaker, unsuited to leadership, and simply had no commanding aura about him. It was the one insult that made her time at home a struggle to retain civility.

"So you believe them capable of fighting a war?" He asked.

"They performed well enough today. As far as I can tell, they have learned all they can by training alone. Now the only teacher left to them is experience through actual combat. The weak will be weeded out eventually or will learn what it takes to survive in the field of war."

"Why not get rid of them now?"

She glared at him. "Go ahead. You look at them and tell me which among them are weak and which are strong. I've told you many times, only a true battle will determine who is worthy to be in the ranks of the Nanten."

"And our first target?"

"I do not."

Roy folded his hands together. "The Gestahl family."

"So our invitation _was_ just a ruse. I wasn't aware that father would stoop so low as to use trickery to get rid of our enemies. Doesn't he have faith that I can kill him as easily in the battlefield as anywhere else?"

"That isn't the case, sister. Father hopes to talk some sense into Gordan's mind and bring him over to us. He is second to us in terms of financial strength in Lindblum, and would do well to join us. I want an Airship to lead my men with."

"Lindblum's Aerial Divisions would chew you to pieces if you dared risk an attack from the skies. Remember the attack on the mountain tribes during the Mist Wars and the trickery used by Alexandria merely to _divert_ the fleet. No force save another aerial army could stand against those machines."

"I do recall, but father already has a plan to avoid that kind of dilemma."

Flaure arched an eyebrow. "Does he?"

"Oh yes, and it's most clever." Roy smirked.

"Do tell."

"Not yet." He stood and brushed his sleeves off. "Father will let you know when the time is right."

"You're evil for leaving me hanging, you know."

He gave her a smirk. "Oh, I do! I most enjoy being evil, especially to my _little_ sister." He turned and left the terrace, stepping inside and leaving Flaure to fume in solitude.

* * *

**_The Author Speaks!_**

Well, I've made a choice to insert these little rants of mine into the end of each chapter so I can address any issues or questions that pop up from my fans. I won't get into any debates or arguments, those can be left for emails or talks over anIM session. Thusly, if you've any questions about the story or wish to point out flaws or errors in the plot, feel free to post a review with them. I'll always respond to them in the following chapter or an email if it warrants. Which reminds me, you cantalk withme with msn's IM program, justusemy yahoo email address as the contact. I'm on usually on in the afternoon PCT, so hope you can catch me then.

-**J.L.Dexter**, glad to see you back for yet another round of storytelling from the grumpy ol' college student. Sorry about not replying to your emails as of late. Life has been busy and burdensome. So typical, eh? If you've still got msn IM, I hope we can get back to chatting again.

-**Robshi**, to have water from a container pass through a pipe to enter a secondcontainer, you simply need place the water source above the exit of the pipe and gravity will do the rest. Envision a water cistern outside the house collecting water above the washtub witha pipe to let the water out and you'll get the idea. Also, Ulrich wasn't in the previous story, he wasjust a convenient plot-device for this one.


	3. Introduction, part three

This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, many of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! _Remember, Italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events._

Enjoy...

:A Moment of Discord:

Part Three: Courier of Deceit

"An honor to meet with you, Duke Highguard." Gordan offered a hand to the broad shouldered nobleman.

Oberon Highguard accepted the gesture with a firm grip. "I'm glad that you were available to come on such short notice. No doubt my message was motivation enough, though."

Gordan chuckled politely. "One could hardly refuse a chance to make such a deal, we being little more that overglorified merchants. All men would hurry to a meeting if it meant a chance to earn their day's labor."

"Truly." He knelt before Illis and kissed her hand briefly. "I'm surprised that you are as dedicated to your work with a wife as lovely as her."

Gordan felt a blush tint his cheeks. "It is a struggle to work, yet my heart knows where I place all my devotion."

"Please, let's retire to the gaming halls. I must introduce you to my wife and children."

From the outskirts of the manor's property, the only space large enough to accommodate the floating bulk of the Diamond Blackjack, the three took quick strides to the walls. Passing through a small access gate, they entered a lush garden filled with flowers, arranged bushes, and a crushed stone walkway. Birds chirped in the early evening sunlight, the hues of the sunset spilling across the world to give it a majestic feeling.

"It's beautiful." Illis commented.

"It is only the fall, milady, and is only a shadow of what springtime lends the place. You must come again when the gardens are in their prime."

"I will."

The trio walked across the garden to a door, passing through the length of the house to a large and spacious den. Arranged with several pieces of padded furniture and deep colors, it emanated a calm and relaxed atmosphere. Oberon led them to a central table, pulling aside seats for the both of them. He clapped his hands, and a servant came out with a decanter of chilled wine, which the guests accepted graciously.

"Selinas, come and bring our children!" He called.

From a separate hall, his wife and their two offspring entered the room. The three were dressed in casual attire, but still evident of money and taste. Gordan was mildly surprised to see that his son and daughter were both adults in their own rights. Duke Oberon appeared barely a day older than he was, well fit and without a trace of gray in his hair.

"Gordan, my wife Selinas of Basil."

Gordan took her hand and kissed it lightly. "An honor to meet you, milady."

"You as well, my good sir." She smiled warmly.

"This is my son, Roymond Highguard, a Captain for our local militia and master-at-arms for the guard in the manor."

Gordan accepted a firm grip from the youth, sharply dressed in what were apparently fatigues for training. He bore closely cropped brown hair and the starting of a goatee, making him look older than he seemed.

"And, of course, my daughter Flaure, sub-commander of the militia."

She offered her hand, which Gordan took with a surprise at her strong hold. She was also dressed in casual apparel for a soldier, although she also donned a stark white cloak over her shoulders. Something about her name itched at his memory, but he put it aside as they all sat at the oaken table. Oberon took a healthy taste of wine, then folded his hands on the table and gathered himself.

"Let me officially welcome you to Kohlingen, Gordan. I hope that you've had an enjoyable trip so far?"

"It has been a most unique experience. I do not get much time to travel, and this is a most welcome break from the routines in Lindblum. The fact that I can see more than a few kilometers distance is a drastic change of pace for me."

"Yes, your city within a castle is very crowded, although it must make for simple living. Here I must travel far in order to get anywhere."

Gordan chuckled politely. "Hopefully we can arrange something to solve that problem for you."

"Indeed. Let us get to the matter of business then." Oberon leaned back, getting comfortable. "Obviously I've called you here to discuss the possibility of having an Airship make for my personal use. What concerns me primarily is the time it will take to construct this craft, and the specific details that I wish to see added to it."

"Gestahl Industries exists solely as a manufacturer of Airship parts and equipment. My own Airship, the Diamond Blackjack, was hand designed and a completely unique project out of any craft yet made. In essence, all we accommodate _are_ original designs. You will not find a common model such as a Mortani or Freighter among our ranks, but one of a kind models such as the Falcon, Great Whale, and partly for the Prima Vista II. Whatever necessities you feel this Airship to have, we shall accommodate to the best of our ability."

"Quite good!" He clapped his hands, and another servant came with a small stack of papers. Oberon picked up the top parchment and slid it to Gordan. "I may not be an engineer at heart, but I have a general concept of construction methods for ocean-going vessels. If you could look this over, it is a general idea as to the appearance of the Airship I wish to have made."

The nobleman looked it over, eyes flicking to important areas such as engine locations, pilot's cabin, and aerodynamic features. "I see you wish this to have a feel much like a standard ship of the sea."

"Yes. The decks are to be specifically designed for the different passengers on board. The lower deck will be reserved for my family, while the upper two are for crew members and operations staff."

"Typically an Airship is designed in the opposite manner. To explain, it is a simple matter of balance, weight distribution, and stress management that recommends that the heavy engines and machinery to be placed below. This way the design is bottom-heavy, making for a stabilized flight. Also, in the event of grounding the Airship for maintenance, it places less pressure on the lower deck and less of a chance of a fracture in the hull."

Oberon nodded throughout the explanation, trying his best to absorb the information. "I merely want to eliminate the need to ascend flights of stairs to get to our rooms each trip."

"We can design ramps or a temporary dock to alleviate this problem. With some alterations to the plan, we can even install a rising platform in the center of the hull to eliminate the need for stairs completely."

"Truly?"

Gordan nodded. "With the advent of the steam engine, a necessity since the mist engine is now unable to work, motors have become smaller and more powerful. Even a veil power drive can do this, although it is only operable in flight or with good wind. A lift mounted in the center will not impede much on the appearance or functionality of the Airship." He pointed to a part of the paper. "Also I have my concerns with the location of the pilot's cabin. Generally, it is wiser to have it mounted as high and close to the front as possible. This allows for a greater field of view, approximately two hundred seventy degrees sight rather than one hundred eighty."

"I see."

"No need to be discouraged! If you wish, I can take you on a tour of the Blackjack and give you a visual explanation of what I mean. I also have my master engineers with me, so together we can make an approximate model of your Airship."

"That would be generous of you."

"Merely another of my standards, Duke Oberon. I do not wish to lead you into anything you do not understand."

The Duke drummed his fingers together. "How about the payment, then? I wish to have a clear idea of the cost this will incur."

"I can say right away that this will be a large class Airship, with four primary engines and six support motors, approximately eight thousand square feet of space, capacity for seventy passengers and occupancy for twenty five. I will make an estimate of about eight million Gil base cost. Additional incursions such as furniture, decorative themes and the stocking of various materials will be separate to this. I will have a secretary personally assigned to your project, this way we can keep a quick track of the money put into it."

"That seems awfully expensive." Selinas spoke up.

Gordan smiled to reassure the woman. "I will say again that eight million is an _estimate_, not a set price. After we meet with the engineers and get permanent details in place, then we can review the costs and come up with a real price for this Airship. This cost alone will give you a functional Airship, that by these notes your husband has provided, will make it among the largest flying crafts in the skies."

"It won't be long? This planning?" Oberon asked.

"It will take some time, but it is all necessary to make sure we get it done right. All you need provide are the dimensions for the rooms you want, any additional spaces, and we can fit in the rest."

"And these plans will work?"

"If we were to make it as is, then it would work just fine. I must commend you for planning ahead, as this will cut a lot of time out in the first stages."

"How long will this take? Completing the Airship, I mean." Selinas posed.

"The construction of my Blackjack took a little under a year, and our previous project, the Brigand, took ten months to complete. I would assume a year's time before your Airship will be flightworthy."

Oberon smiled and nodded, satisfied. "A year won't be much, we've waited long enough for this. Let's put business aside for the night and talk casually, I wish to get further aquatinted with your family."

"As do I..."

> > >

"So are you going to tell me what your plan is?" Flaure asked her father.

Oberon, sitting in a plush leather chair, regarded his daughter from the top of an aging tome. His ebony colored eyes glared at her, and she returned it with equal force. There had been little love between them, only fading farther away as Flaure got older and less tolerant of being looked down upon.

"Are you still upset that it will take almost a year to get your precious flying machine?"

"No."

"Then what is it? You can't hide your anger from me, and you have most certainly been angry since you turned in for the night."

He sighed like gravel, closing the book and setting it on a side table. Standing, he collected his thoughts and looked outside to the sky. Stars sparkled by the thousands in the heavenly reaches, the moon a waning crescent among the sparse clouds.

"Neither the cost nor the time worries me, child. My master of coin tells me that the Highguard name encompassed the worth of this city and over one hundred million Gil. Eight million is nothing to throw on a revolution that will make me master of _billions_ in gil. I will make Regent Fabool suffer greatly. He, goaded on by his father during the Mist Wars, led the attacks that devastated this city." He regarded her from the corner of an eye. "Do you know that this manor and our town lay upon the burnt ashes of the old Kohlingen? We sleep, eat, and live atop the corpses of thousands slaughtered in a pointless war."

Flaure crossed her arms. "And this is supposed to make me feel vengeful towards the Regent?"

He spun on her, eyes livid. "If that doesn't then you must be mad or without honor! We were a minor family during the war, and when the city was leveled, I escaped by luck and hope! A boy barely into his teenage years, and I was homeless and friendless. It was because I stuck by this town, worked with the survivors and made myself take responsibility for everyone, that we enjoy this lifestyle. By the time I was fifteen this city looked to me as their savior and leader, and I-"

"I don't need a lecture on your life, father!" Flaure snapped. "I know that we earned all this from your toil and labor. Was that taste of power not enough for you? Is that why you work so hard to press everyone into your debt? So they look on you as a savior and as a leader?"

"I do this for the people of Kohlingen."

"Which one? This one or the one populated by ghosts?"

He ground his teeth together in anger. "Leave. I won't have my own daughter insult me this openly!"

"Tell me what your plan is and I will go."

Oberon paused a moment, jaws working between curses or a reply to her question. He chose the latter. "Lindblum was hardest struck on the day the mist faded. Since then, they have been working overtime to fix their Airships and make them independent of mist engines. This has put a serious dent in their economy, one that will take a decade to recover from. Their Aerial Divisions are most weak now, one a fourth of their power in the skies. Like everyone says, the Viltgance make the Grand Castle impossible to attack, overwhelm, or lay siege to."

"I know this."

"If ever there was a time to strike Lindblum, this is the time! They are weak, crippled, and so busy with their internal problems they will never see another massing at their gates. If we can eliminate the Viltgances before they are airborne, we can rob the Regency of almost their entire defensive power."

"With one Airship?"

Oberon chuckled. "I have something to level the playing field."

"Which is?"

"I'll let you discover that answer with your own wits, child. There is one person in this city who can give you the answer, if you know where to look."

Flaure frowned. "And the soldiers and knights?"

The Duke grinned. "You're the expert of hand-to-hand combat, Flaure, you tell me what those pointy-helmeted men can do against the Nanten elite."

Flaure let a hint of a smile crack her lips. The city guards were pathetic in strength and appearance. The security teams might pose a threat, their skill honed against the wild monsters on the plateau. Then there were the Regulators, an elite squad of monster hunters separate from the Regency. Memories of her encounter with one of its members made her body shiver in anticipation when they clashed during the Festival of the Hunt. If _he_ was still there, then the battles would be all the sweeter. Flaure hated nothing more than dueling with a weaker opponent.

"They will fall like leaves to a storm."

* * *

**_The Author Speaks!_**

Hello again, and my apologies for the chapter mixup. I was attempting to update a chapter to correct some errors and quickedit apparently went and screwed it up. For whatever reason, however, the errors weren't fixed, so don't be stunned if the author notes have terrible grammer. Other than that, I've been sick with a fever of sorts, so don't be surprised if the next chapter comes a little late while I recuperate. I also apologize for the lack of much action in this chapter, but I felt it was necessary to have a long conversation with the new characters so you can get a feel for who they are.

**-J.L.Dexter**, I'm sure that this chapter will make that hint of malevolence seem rather like a brick to the face worth of it. Just wait, though, the next chapter will really send the idea across to you.

**-Breeze of Summoners**, a pleasent surprise to see you back once again! As to your question, X-Zone is a spell used in Final Fantasy V and also VI, one that sucks the target into the void of an alternate dimension. Since FFIX has elements from several of its predecessors, I figure adding some more in won't hurt too much. Keep an eye out, you'll spot a lot of thesereferences throughout the story and the previous.X-Zone feels like a spell that sends you to a place only described as 'Here There Be Dragons'.


	4. Introduction, part four

This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, many of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! _Remember, Italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events._

Enjoy...

* * *

:A Moment of Discord: 

Part Four: Goodwill

"Who enters the hall of Kings?" One of the two guards asked Fedrich as he approached the double doors.

"Sir Fedrich Castor, Dragon Knight sworn to the welfare of the King."

"Then enter, Sir, and be welcome to his sight."

The guards placed their hands on the door and pushed them open, wood creaking and hinges squealing for a want of oil. Fedrich stepped swiftly into the grand hall, noting the absence of persons as he approached. Only four guards stood watch over the King, two on either side of the imposing throne. Ten steps away he stopped and knelt, lowering his head and waiting for the monarch to speak.

"You can take it easy, Sir Fedrich! Stand up!" The boyish voice commanded.

Fedrich stood and looked at his lord and liege. That he was still a boy, only fourteen and not even a man, was a mild nuisance to the Dragon Knight. He was stubborn, quick to action and talked like he was born to the commoners than royalty. At least he was under restraint by the Royal Council and a steward until he was of age to become a true king. Said steward was standing next to the throne, back hunched with age and strain of keeping the king in check.

"You summoned me, my King?"

King Puck shook his head with a grin. "Nah, it was ol' Barlay that called you here! There's something brewing in Lindblum, and he wants to send an emissary to the Regent to make nice with him."

"A gift of manpower in case these rumors of a noble revolt prove to be truer than words say." Barlay respoke, walking forward to stand in attention. "I'm certain that you have heard these rumors?"

"I have. It doesn't seem much different from normal." Fedrich spoke evenly.

"Which is what I suspected it to be, yet this time it rings with a much darker tone than before. Agents from within the Lindblum territory have made reports of noblemen speaking against the Regent, of bolder steps being taken in defiance of his rule. I would take this as less than proof of danger, but one report given to me weighs heavier than any rumor."

"The report of massing soldiers for hire within the town of Kohlingen?"

Barlay shook his head. "A report followed after that one, only a day later. The agent within Kohlingen was killed by a man under the Highguard noble family. They sent a letter directly to our King, a warning to stay out of things that do not involve us."

"He actually threatened me!" King Puck laughed. "Said he would use his power to cut me a bloody wound in retaliation."

"Your Highness!" Fedrich blurted. "You do take him seriously, don't you?"

"Of course not! How could some dinky little nobleman halfway across the land come into my castle and cut me? How? He's just trying to scare me out of it."

Fedrich's muscles strained, wanting to slap sense into the boy. He knew exactly how someone could enter the castle and injure him, or even kill him. Since the bloody war against the mage army fielded by Alexandria, he knew that no walls could prevent a man from being magicked inside with a spell. Even before, against the fiery mage-warrior Elric, he saw that walls were by no means a guarantee of safety against a potential danger.

"There are many ways to injure a person, your Highness." Barlay faced the youth with a stern frown. "He wouldn't need to injure your body. He could attack a village, make war on our people, do any number of things to Burmecia in anger. All these things would be a grievous wound to our people. We suffer still from the Alexandrine conquest, and our numbers are too small to take such threats lightly."

"You don't think I know that half the city is still empty, Barlay?" Puck's eyes glared at the man, revealing layers of strain and stress on his mind. "You think I don't know what that war cost us? Cost me?"

Barlay realized his error. "My apologies, your Highness."

"Just tell Sir Fedrich what he needs to know and send him on his way. If we can stop this revolt before it happens, then we'll be in the clear!"

"Yes, your Highness." Barlay turned to face Fedrich once again, drawing out a scroll bound with a wax seal. "After much debate within the Royal Council, we have decided to send a small force of men to Lindblum as a sign of good faith to the Regent. You, Sir Fedrich, will be leading this group along with another Dragon Knight, Sir Diamante Halbred."

Fedrich's ears perked when he heard that name. Diamante was a Dragon Knight of impressive standing, only falling aside when Sir Fratley prove himself as legendary a warrior. He stepped aside as head knight and retired, traveling the continent and training others in his arts. He only reappeared in Burmecian territory when news of its razing reached all ears across the land, too late to shift the tide of the war.

"...Sir Halbred has been reinstated as an active knight, and has since been training a new generation of Dragon Knights to replace those who have fallen. Lady Crescent has been reassigned to take up his role as instructor, but Sir Halbred will take his three best students along with you to complete their training abroad."

"So there will be five of us, then. When will we be departing?"

"On the rise of the next sun, by chocobo. Gizamaluke is already sending their best mounts to speed your trip."

"And my orders?"

"Are within this scroll, to be opened in the presence of the Regent and none other. He is already aware of your coming, and will have an escort at the Hunter's Gate to ferry you to the castle proper."

"Is there anything I should know before we arrive?"

"Only that you are to do whatever is asked of you by the Regent. Since Lindblum suffers equally from a lack of strength, you are to be the knife that will cut away the sickness eating at his lands. The Dragon Knights will again show the world that none other matches their skill and honor. Do you understand your orders, Sir Castor?"

"We will ensure the peace of the lands, be it our own or an allies, under any circumstances and whenever he asks of it." Fedrich quoted the line directly from the books he studied under to become a proper knight. He saluted after. "I will make ready to depart by dawn of tomorrow at the city gates."

"Very good." Barlay handed the scroll to Fedrich, and he took it gently. "I trust you to take care of any details on your own."

"It won't be a problem, m'lord."

"Excellent."

Fedrich knelt again to the King. "I beg your leave."

"You don't have to beg for it, 'ya know! You can go." Puck tried to hide a snicker, but failed quickly.

The knight stood and turned, leaving the grand hall. He would have much to do before he left, and much to explain as well.

Home was the same as ever, rain smoothed stone and water resistant tiles on the roof. Cleverly placed pipes and troughs sluiced the water away from the house and down into the streets. From there it was all downhill to the central pipe, and that raced straight into the plains and was left to its own devices. Among several other houses, all well built and largely untouched by the conquest, it was a peaceful residence. Fedrich was glad he had earned enough money to afford it, with some help by his parents and a generous King, of course. He stepped to the door, unlocked it, and stepped inside.

"Welcome home, love!" Ruthy's voice called out from the bedroom.

"How are you today?" He asked, slipping off his jerkin and hanging it on a peg next to the door.

"Same as I was this morning, and the last one and the last one-"

"I get it." He snickered. "Just fine."

"So why are you back this early? I thought today was your day to patrol the back mountains?"

"It is, but I've got another assignment."

"Oh?"

Fedrich walked to the kitchen, picking up a mug and pouring himself some spiced cider from a jug on the counter. He took a healthy swig, savoring the rich and fresh flavors. She must have purchased it while he was out, he figured. He turned and saw her standing in the hallway, hair only partly braided. She had allowed it to grow since she left Lindblum, and it trailed down to her waist in coppery rivers. She smiled and stepped close to kiss him briefly on the lips.

"So the assignment?" She repeated.

Fedrich took a seat on a chair. "I've been given a special task this time. Four others and I are travelling to Lindblum to give our strength to the Regent. Apparently those rumors about a noble revolt are turning into facts."

Ruthy looked disheartened and excited at the same time, fingers forgetting her hair. She was obviously sad that her love was leaving Burmecia for an unknown amount of time, but was happy that he was going somewhere familiar. A mischievous glint shone in her brown eyes a moment after.

"When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow at sunrise."

Her smiled widened. "Okay...that should be enough time for me to pack and get this place cleaned up."

"This isn't a vacation, Ruthy. You can't go with me on this mission."

"I won't go with you, exactly, but happen to be going in the same direction as you until we reach Lindblum. I can stay with my sister and Gordan at their manor while you're doing your work."

"But..." He tried to argue his point, but there wasn't a legitimate reason to keep her from going. She had family in Lindblum, and she would be happy there as long as he was assigned to the Regent's side. "I...suppose that you can come."

"Suppose?" She gave him _that_ look.

Fedrich flinched. "Okay, you may go with me and enjoy life among humanity again."

Ruthy smiled, mussing his hair. "You know I would've followed you even if you said no."

"I blame that on whichever of your parents was more stubborn than the other." He took another swig of cider. "Try and pack light, we're only getting so many chocobos for the trip."

"You know that I always travel light."

"Just letting you know. Besides, you can buy anything you need in Lindblum and we can rent a bird there to haul it back."

"Yeah! I can finally get some of the new fashion clothes from the silk merchants. Thinner parchments, colored inks and proper bindings for my play. Books to read! I'll be dipping into the savings for certain."

"Try not to spend us broke, okay?"

"I'll resist the temptation."

She stepped back to the bedroom to finish braiding her hair, and Fedrich walked to the spare room to begin gathering his travel materials. He opened a chest and drew out his aged travel pack, shaking the dust off it and tossing it by the door. He picked up his old hat, leather worn and creased from time. It was the same hat that he wore during his stay in Lindblum, put aside for his official winged helmet. He felt it was only appropriate to wear it again while on the road.

He closed the chest and faced the closest wall of the room, eyes admiring the collection of arms and armor he had accumulated over the years. Present was his old mythril vest, blue-silver mail still looking pristine as if freshly forged. A dozen leather wrappings for his feet hung on metal rings, many of them with threads of metal woven in for added strength. Two lances and a glaive on wood mounts, each speaking of the hard time he had adapting to a polearm from a sword. And lastly was the very sword that won him through the trials during the Alexandrine conquest. As he promised himself, he polished that sword and all his weapons on a monthly basis. The dragon stain on the blade seemed anxious to be put to use.

_'You could learn about my past by only looking at these things. The lances covered with notches from bad use, the leather soaked with my blood from cuts and blisters...'_

Fedrich picked up the sword and scabbard from the rack, the leather sheath cool in his palm. _'Better take you along with me, just in case.'_

He put the blade by the door as well, then gathered up his travel cloak and his riding gear. He would have to pack his presentation uniform carefully, thankful that it was all of linked metal and not solid plate.

"Fedrich?"

"Yes?" He looked back, seeing Ruthy by the front door. "Going somewhere?"

"Just to the markets to pick up medicine and stuff for the trip. Don't want to go out unprepared, even if I know some magic."

"Sure thing." Fedrich was always thankful that Ruthy packed for all occasions on a trip. More than once he had forgotten materials, and she always laughed when he had to ask for this or that.

Her magic, too, was a great gift for them. Months into their residence in Burmecia, a package arrived from Alexandria that contained several books and a note. Leena Doreen, a red mage that the two had helped on the road long ago, had sent them as a gift for saving her life. Most of them were historical texts, but one actually had notations on how to awaken any latent magical talent in a person's body. Ruthy poured over the book for months, and one day found that she could make sense of the runes within the tome. Since then, she had become a self-proclaimed white mage, learnt in the arts of healing wounds and purging poisons from the body.

His own feats at magic were less than successful. So far he had only mastered two dragoon spells, and one he had already known when he was formally inducted into the Dragon Knights. Fedrich was glad that learning magic wasn't a mandatory part of his training. Putting daydreaming aside, he went back to packing for their trip, wondering what exactly the Regent of Lindblum would have planned for them.

The day came to an end, the sun and moon exchanging places on their sides of the horizon. The moon rose and fell through the celestial globe of the heavens, and soon dawn came upon the rainy lands of Burmecia. This was lost to Burmecia, covered in clouds, observable only to the dragon roosting on the craggy peaks above. Having set a mechanical alarm, Fedrich and Ruthy both woke with time to spare before sunrise. Eating a meager breakfast, they closed up their house, grabbed their materials, and struck out to the city gates. Fedrich expected to arrive before the others did, but was disappointed when he saw them already preparing their mounts for the ride to the grotto.

"Ah, a blessed morning to you, Sir Castor!" An elderly burman called, stepping up to shake Fedrich's hand. "We have been here nary a minute, so don't fret if you believe yourself late."

"I don't, good Sir."

"My name is Sir Diamante Halbred, Dragon Knight, as you very well know. You may simply call me by Diamante to ease your tongue. And these," He motioned to the three other burmans with him. "Are my students. Knights Eria, Perce, and Winston."

Fedrich gave each a looking over, curious to see what the new generation of Dragon Knights came from. Eria looked as normal a girl one from a harsh life, expression bright despite the hour. Perce was thinner than any present, but held himself like a warrior born. Winston was easy to read by his eyes alone, since they darted from person to person as if expecting a fight. A generous mixing of personalities, it seemed, and all younger than a knight ought to be.

"It is an honor to meet with you all. From what I've heard, you are the best of the current students to become Dragon Knights. It will be an interesting experience to help finish your training in Lindblum, and most interesting to see what you are each capable of. As you know, my name is Sir Fedrich Castor," He stepped aside, revealing Ruthy who was standing behind him. "And before I forget, allow me to introduce my mate, Ruthy Killjoy."

The redhead took the same shade as her hair, but managed to nod weakly. "A pleasure to meet you all."

"She's your _mate_?" Winston repeated, eyes boring into Fedrich's.

"Yes." He replied in a stern tone. "My mate."

The two locked eyes for several moment, but Winston broke off with a bemused look. Fedrich was immediately reminded of the bias towards his choice in lovers. He hoped that these people wouldn't be so pre-set against them during the trip.

"Now now, let's not get into a foul disposition before we even depart." Diamante looked at Fedrich with a want of answers. "Is there a reason in particular miss Ruthy is with us this fine morning?"

"She's only a guest while we travel. Her relatives live in Lindblum and she wants to visit them, so better for her to come with us rather than go on her own, right?"

"Defense of the weak and innocent." Diamante muttered from the list of pledges a knight swore to. "Very well! Let us finish this packing and go before the rains pick up."

The six continued packing materials onto the chocobos, the sprinkle of rain from the omnipresent clouds starting to worsen as a wind picked up. Fedrich hoped that a storm wasn't intent on chasing them all the way across the Daines-Horse basin. Hopefully things would be better once they reached North Gate, since that city was specifically built on the edge of the perpetual rain. He tossed his last bag onto the bird, securing the leather bindings so that it wouldn't interfere with the bird's gait. Done, he turned around and came face to face with Perce, giving him a start.

"Yes?" Fedrich asked the knight.

Perce looked at him intently for several seconds before replying. "You feel important."

"I feel important?"

"Not that. Something about your aura...it just _feels_ important. Necessary to us."

"To what?"

"Nevermind...it's nothing." And before Fedrich could ask, Perce was already walking away to get onto his mount.

Fedrich could only arch an eyebrow at the youth, unable to think of a reason why he would say such things. He wasn't that special in the order of things in Burmecia, and wasn't known for doing much that was noteworthy in the military. Only his involvement during the Alexandrine conquest marked him as important, since he was in place to alter the threads of fate and save so many innocent lives. Or so he was told by those phantoms in his dreams long ago, but he only had their word that he was vital to Burmecia's survival. This Perce couldn't know of what he did, could he?

Fedrich couldn't choose one or another.

> > >

Gordan stepped up the stairs, taking his time as he made his way to the Highguard's study. The past three days he had been welcomed to stay with them as guests, and it was a wonderful chance to learn about their history and the struggles they had to get to their place as a leading noble house in Lindblum. Oberon was a strict businessman, but had a streak of humor in him once he got his mind off of work. His wife and children, too, seemed friendly and lively once they broke the ice.

_'Leon and Alvard both love it here. They have never seen the open plains nor the ocean before up close, and to play with other children as well is a gift to relish. I almost regret having to take them home so soon.'_

Gordan knocked on the door to the study before coming inside, seeing Oberon by the large windows that overlooked the endless textile fields his family was known for.

"How are you, Gordan?" Oberon asked, looking back to the nobleman.

"I am fine. These past days with your family have been invigorating."

"Yes, this town has always made me feel years younger, like I could dive into those fields and work them as hard as any man. I attribute it to the fresh air and the scent of cotton. You notice it, do you?"

"What I notice is the absence of smells. I am used to the din of Airships and the smells of molten metal, smoke and sound. A person could get lost in the silence of this land."

"Understandable." Oberon turned to face Gordan, hands clasped behind his back. "Tell me, Gordan, nobleman to nobleman, are you tired of living in such intolerable conditions?"

"Tired in what way?"

"In every way that there can be. The economy, the oppression from the Regency, the impassive population of drones we call normal folk, the lack of respect for what the noble class has done to improve this world. Aren't you tired of being looked at as another rich bastard who does nothing for society except ruin it? Aren't you tired of not having the _power_ we are entitled to?"

Gordan was uncertain of what Oberon was trying to drive home. His expression looked the same as ever, but his eyes gleamed with an inner fire and drive. He hadn't looked as focused on a subject since the details regarding his Airship. "What power? We are merely nobles, the upper part of society."

"No!" Oberon barked. "We aren't _merely_ nobles! We are the tools for social evolution in society, the cogs that drive the economy and the creators of wealth and employment! We are the ones that invent and engineer, that make this modern world what it is! Have you forgotten what the true meaning of noble is?"

"It is merely a title, Oberon, not something to flaunt about as proof to our superiority. We are only the wealthy, not the leaders that our Regent is. He is of royal birth, a standing much greater than being wealthy or noble."

"Royal birth! Pah, royalty is only having a certain surname given to you at birth, only a mere thing handed down to people like cheap crowns or a tattered robe! You _know_, Gordan, where the true power lies in this world." He gesticulated towards himself. "It is me. You. Every noble house in this land that bore the burden of picking up society after it fell in the Alexandrine conquest! We are the ones who make this world what it is, and then some man with a name decides to call himself a Regent and lessen our place. He swaggers from tourneys to plays and feasts, gorging himself on our labors and calling them his own!"

"That is not true!" Gordan shouted back. "The Regent creates order in the land so that we do not live in anarchy!"

"Who is to say that anarchy would result if the Regent were to leave? If we left, all the nobles and their works were to disappear, what would the Regent be residing over? Dirt, rocks, and people slaving in the mud to eke out a living for themselves! Before there is a King, there must be a connected population to rule over. And how does one connect people to one another? Through trade, employment and an economy. And who creates those things?" He smiled and motioned to Gordan. "The nobles."

Gordan shook his head. "What are you driving at? Are the rumors of a noble uprising more than rumors, Oberon? Is it true that you wish to overthrow the Regency and bring about the noble states lost during the Mist Wars?"

"Yes." Oberon smiled, pleased to think of being in power once more. "And I want to know if you will help me, Gordan. Help me bring down that doddering Regent with your strength! You have the largest owned private Airship industry in the world. Without the Regent and his private industries above you, then you would stand unequaled! Without his Viltgances guarding his precious castle, then he can be put to siege and forced to step down! The people don't like him any less for being taxed and living under so many pointless laws and commands! All people yearn for freedom, and you can help bring it to them!"

Gordan was nervous, afraid even. He had hoped that Oberon wasn't truly planning to attack the Regent, but it was more than apparent he was laying the groundwork to begin. Immediately after, he thought of his wife and children. Could be bluff for time and get them away from his control?

"I...ask for time to think on this, Oberon. It is not something to be so lightly treated." He turned to leave, but saw Flaure Highguard standing in the doorjam, a thin sword held loosely in her hand. She smiled and waved a hand at him.

"I'm sorry, Gordan, but I'm a tad impatient when it comes to this matter. Will you help me?"

"I will not." He said, resolute.

Oberon tsked him. "So much for reasoning like gentlemen, it seems. Alright, Gordan, you may leave for home. Except," He smiled again, wicked and cruel. "I'll be keeping your wife and children here as guests in my manor. Since you have a model for my Airship complete, you really don't need to stay here. Go and complete it, but don't linger too long. I'm afraid that as time goes on, my friendliness towards Illis and your sons might...wane."

He looked back to Oberon with fire in his eyes. "Are you threatening my family, Sir?"

"Merely warning you that my Airship had better be completed in due haste. My revolution rests on the back of this Airship, and the longer I wait the more I will take it out on your family. I will not hesitate to get rid of things that stand in the way of my ascent to power."

Gordan remained still in the study, body conflicted between running to protect his wife or to strike the noble down for his audacity to keep them hostage.

"You have nine months to complete my Airship. Any longer..." He let the threat trail off, knowing that Gordan understood the message.

* * *

**_The Author Speaks!_**

And now, finally, we have the end to an ever so long introduction! With the stage set, now we can see where this story goes and just how great the dangers our heroes will face. This has been shaping itself to be darker, more malevolent and political than anything I've tried yet. Hopefully I can play those cards right and make this story ring with the full scope of a war between classes.

Hey, **Jaysinya**! Glad to see another familiar face back on the field. Don't fret, you'll see plenty of action in this story as it progresses, and also the identity of our mystery mage will be revealed in the near future.

I also apologize, **Robshi**, for the lack of action in the last chapter. However, since this story will be running at a slower pace than my others, expect to see more chapters that revolve around character interactions instead of fighting. There will be many conflicts present, but not all of them with swords and spears.


	5. Act one, Chapter one, Common Ground

This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, many of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! _Remember, Italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events._

Enjoy...

* * *

:A Moment of Discord:****

First Act: The risks Involved in Playing at war

Chapter One: Common Ground

Despite all intents, Fedrich was still breathtaken by the sight of the Grand Castle Lindblum. Although he remembered his first sight of the metropolis within a castle walls, it was still as stunning to see after six years. Six years ago he left this land to attend to his role as a player in the outcome of the future, and not once had he come back. His place in Burmecia was too demanding of him to allow the freedom of a trip or time off to travel back. While the land of eternal rain was his true homeland, he felt happy to be along humans and the din of Lindblum's streets once again. To delve into the living and breathing city was an enjoyment that he could fully appreciate after tasting it once before.

"So this is it, eh?" Diamante commented from Fedrich's side.

"Yep. Amazing, isn't it?"

"Well, it's tall, I'll give you that." He chuckled. "Seems like an awful waste of material when you could just build on the ground. It's not as if they're lacking for space."

"I'm not sure why they did either, but it still is impressive to look at. They say it was just like this two hundred years ago. You've got to wonder how they did it with only handmade tools and their own strength."

"Don't forget that we carved a city into the sides of a mountain, lad, and that was a _thousand_ years past. These folks simply made their own mountain by hand. It's not much of a difference."

"Point taken." He turned back to the others following behind on the chocobos. "There are stalls ahead to keep our birds. I'm sure an emissary from the castle will be waiting at the gate up top."

"We've got to climb all the way up there?" Perce looked up, almost paling through his fur at the sight of the stairs.

"All the way." Fedrich grinned, legs recalling the strain of hiking up those innumerable steps each day.

The six followed the beaten dirt trail leading to the central circle around the stairs that led to Hunter's Gate. Since Lindblum was situated on a plateau, the base of the castle lay two hundred feet above them. No one bothered to recall the number of steps from bottom to top, if only to keep from depressing themselves when they had to make the trip. Near a rocky outcrop of stones, they entered a large corral where dozens if not hundreds of chocobos paced around between journeys. Fedrich arranged stalls for each bird, paying a healthy sum to keep them safe and fed for a time.

"Alright, have any of you been into Lindblum before today?" Fedrich asked his charges.

No one replied, so he considered some words of advice for them. "Well, obviously you'll be having to deal with a lot of climbing up and down in the city. There are several districts inside, most common being for businesses, residences, theaters, and industries. You'll need to ride Aircabs to get from place to place, so it'll be common to fly from spot to spot a lot during a single day. Also, this place is crowded, noisy, and constantly busy. I've seen it as lively as the Daines market in the middle of the night and ten times worse in the afternoon. Lastly, don't stare. You'll only get joked at if you get caught gawking at the sights. Understood?"

"Understood!" The three shouted in unison.

"Then let's get going."

The six began the climb to the top, passing by hundreds of travelers as they made progress up or down the stairs. Winston, in a show of young arrogance, began jumping high to cover the distance to the top, declaring that he wasn't made for taking things slowly. The others looked to him for a sign, and Fedrich only smirked. He knew better than to take shortcuts leaping up the stairs.

"How long does this take?" Eria asked.

"About fifteen, twenty minutes. Depends on what you carry."

"Ugh." She moaned, pulling her pack securely against her back. "All this work before we even get inside."

"I'll not have your tongue, girl. Do you still have baby whiskers or are you a woman?" Diamante barked.

"A woman through and through, sir!" Eria shouted back to her superior.

"Good. I don't expect to hear any lip from you or I'll send you back to the barracks and have you explain yourself to the guardmasters!"

"That's harsh." Ruthy whispered towards Fedrich.

"A man's got to be harsh if he expects to be a teacher, little miss." Diamante replied with a wry grin. "How could you respect a teacher who lets his students get away with such talk? You couldn't, so I whip it out of them first thing."

Ruthy went red, remembering that Burmecians had a superior ear to humans. "I-I see."

"So, Sir Fedrich, what are we to expect with this Regent fellow?"

"I don't know for sure. He's a thriving engineer, that much I know, and created the steam engines that allow Airships to fly without Mist. Other than that people just call him a well rounded man."

"Sounds like a right type to me."

"I hope so."

"I also heard that his adoptive daughter can summon giant monsters from the ether." Perce added.

"Rubbish!" Diamante spat the word out. "Show me one and then I might believe it. How could a little pink human make a monster out of nothing?"

"Lindblum and Alexandria were both attacked by giant monsters." Perce insisted, pointing to the top of the walls. "It was a monster with a gaping maw that swallowed up part of this city, and a mighty dragon king that razed the streets in Alexandria. I've even heard that the castle itself rose up, sprouted wings of holy energy, and smote the dragon king like snubbing a candle! In each case people said it was one person who wasn't afraid of them and acted like they _controlled_ them."

"Do you even listen to the words you speak, Perce? Castles sprouting wings, that's top notch idiocy."

"It's true! You can't tell me that all those people were mistaken."

"I'll tell you that they were half blind with panic and were willing to see whatever they wanted! It was cannons loaded with fiery shot that took them, nothing else."

Perce grumbled to himself, looking defeated. Fedrich was himself unsure of what to believe, since he wasn't witness to those events. All he knew was that Alexandria fielded an army of golems that could use the black arts. If they could create things like them, then giant monsters didn't seem so farfetched.

The elder Dragon Knight looked to his students. "Alright, we're near the top, kids, so follow orders and don't act out of line! The last thing we'll be needing is to make a bad impression on the Regent before we even see his face."

"Yessir!" The three knights in training shouted.

"Now where's this emissary going to be again?" Diamante asked.

"At the Hunter's Gate." Fedrich replied. "It'll be a short walk to the Aircab terminal then a flight to the castle itself. I don't know what else to expect beyond that."

"Right."

They took the last few flights of stairs with ease, coming to the landing and the cobblestone pathway leading to the great tunnel in the wall called Hunter's Gate. Winston was waiting at the top, arms crossed and an arrogant grin plastered on his face. Diamante greeted him with an equally withering stare.

"Easy, was it?"

"Simpler than getting wet." He snorted.

"Then you can carry my pack, whelp, since you're so full of energy." Diamante slung his travel bag from his shoulders and tossed it to Winston, who barely caught it. The burman bared his teeth in dismay, but slung the pack over his shoulder and bore the extra weight without complaint.

"I believe our emissary is here to greet us." Fedrich motioned to an approaching man with two guards on his heels.

The emissary made no rush to meet the burmans, robes of office brushing the tops of well worn boots. He looked older than most humans should be, hair gray and shot through with white. Wrinkles lined his cheeks, but only added to the solemn and worldly appearance he exuded. He stopped short of the group, the guards taking place at either arm.

"You must be Sir Fedrich Castor?"

"I am." Fedrich answered. "My colleague is Sir Diamante Halbred, Dragon Knight. The knights with me are Eria Waterfang, Winston Ruglia, and Perce Kampe. My human friend is Ruthy Killjoy, former Regulator of Lindblum."

"I am Artania, Minister of affairs." He executed a formal bow, then half turned for the gate. "The Regent is expecting you, so please follow me."

The emissary turned and began back towards the gate, the others following in a loose formation. The interior of the gate was lined with complex machinery to operate the many portcullises in the tunnel, providing protection to those within. Images of famous people were painted onto the stone walls, of warriors and diplomats, kings and queens of past favor. Some parts of the stone were badly cracked and scarred, evidence of the brutal occupancy of Alexandrine soldiers during the conquest. Even four years past the evidence of that war were still plain to the eye. Fedrich was reminded of his first year in Burmecia, when things had been at their worst for his homeland.

They finally left the close spaces in the gate and came upon the beginnings of the Business District, the wide central street lined with carts, people, and the inseparable din of Airships that made up the atmosphere of Lindblum. Diamante and the other burmans all gaped at the sights, staring without embarrassment.

"I trust your journey was without trouble, Sir Castor?" Artania asked.

"It was fine."

"There have been incidents regarding the population of monsters on the plateau as of late. It seems that the vile beasts are most eager to pillage the vast number of towns coming into the lands. The withdrawl of the mist has left us the freedom to build where we like, yet this makes us vulnerable as well."

"What of the Regulators, or the security patrols?"

Artania shrugged his shoulders. "Regulators. They are too little a force to deal with the enormity of the task at hand. Even our best men at arms can only fend off an attack. To predict, or prevent them, that is the call that the populace demands."

Fedrich mused on the words, wondering. His friends all were members of the Regulators, and so was he for a time. Curiosity prodded him to wonder how they were doing.

"The terminal is this way, Sirs."

They kept up with the emissary as Artania entered an Aircab terminal, the floor crowded with the evening rush. While the emissary signaled a knight to hail a cab for the castle, Ruthy stepped to Fedrich's side and prodded his foot with her boot.

"Well, I guess this is where we part ways." Ruthy spoke up.

Fedrich nodded. "I'll try and meet with you at the manor when I have some free time. Hopefully we won't have to be apart for too long."

"I think I can manage." She grinned. "Don't you get too lonely, either."

"I'll do my best." He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Say hello to Gordan and Illis for me."

"I will." She began walking to the general crowds for a cab to the Industrial District where Gordan's manor was situated. "You stay safe!"

"Ever and always!" Fedrich called back with a grin.

An Aircab pulled into the appointed landing zone, Artania and his escorts entering the blue hull along with the Burmecian knights. The craft sped out of the terminal and began a lazy circle around the city, gaining altitude to reach the summit and the castle where the Regent resided. It landed easily on an elevated strip, and the group stepped out and went down a flight of stairs to the small square along the edge of the castle. The roar of a steam engine came to a crescendo as a massive Viltgance class Airship passed nearby, armored hull bristling with cannons and the ramming spear glittering in the late afternoon sun.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Artania commented once the Airship passed by.

"It is." Diamante nodded. "To think that such a thing could fly through the air like a bird. It hardly looks worthy to even float on the salty seas much less ply the clouds!"

"It is thanks to the Regent that we have such craft to protect us from harm. His steam engine has created a new industrial revolution across the world, helping to repair the harm caused by Queen Brahne's mad ambition."

"Quite the thought, a new revolution. Mayhap our own King may yet see value in this technology."

"Perhaps, perhaps. Come, we shouldn't waste time."

Artania led them to a small hall that led along the side of a massive internal dock for the flying ships. The cobblestone ground became smooth and polished marble, lush carpets running down the halls and guards dressed in their finest. Several pages rushed to the minister, and he quickly snapped orders to the youths.

"Rooms have been prepared for you all, so I'll ask that you allow us to take your things there along with your weapons."

"I won't go without my lance, Sir Minister." Diamante insisted. "A Dragon Knight will not allow himself to be without a weapon less he find a conflict that he cannot diffuse for a lack of armament."

"The castle guards will be more than able to protect the Regent from any danger that befalls him." Artania replied.

"It won't hurt to be unarmed for a while, Diamante. Show some faith and pass the guard to our hosts." Fedrich also added, eyes giving a stern glare.

The elder knight snorted, reluctantly passing his lance to a page.

"Very good. If you'll follow me, we shall ascend to the top of the world and his Regency's hall of clouds." Artania turned and went down a large hall, the others following.

The gathering passed by numerous guards on patrol, reassuring the knights that a virtual army of support was present to protect the Regent and his family. At a large central hub of halls was a circular fountain with a magnificent statue within the crystalline waters. Here many people of the highest class sat at benches and small tables, discussing events and chatting about rumors and gossip. Artania led them down another hall, this time appearing at a large vertical chamber filled with elevators hung on thick cables.

"This elevator will lead us to the hall."

"And it's safe?" Eria asked, eyes wide in the face of such technology.

"I haven't heard of a single incident regarding the elevators during my lifetime, and by my looks, that has been a long time indeed."

The burman female smiled at his good humor, following the others inside the metal construct. Pulling a lever, the entire cage began rising at an alarming pace for something so fragile. After nearly a minute, the cage slowed and came to a halt at the highest point the elevator shaft came to. Everyone departed the lift, walking down the plush hallway and the guards in full combat attire. Paintings and sculptures lined the hall, revealing in depth the history and wealth that was always a part of Lindblum's existence. They came to a massive double door, two guards on either side and one at the center.

"Who approaches?" the central guard asked.

"Artania and the envoy from Burmecia to speak with his grace, the Regent."

"He expects you, so enter and leave with his respect." The knight turned and unlocked the doors, and the other knights pushed them open on well-oiled hinges.

Artania led the five Burmecians into the audience chamber of the Regent, artificial lights shining brightly in addition with the sun pouring through great windows and stained glass. On a throne made of metals and seemingly forged from one piece of steel sat the Regent, tall and well built despite his age. To his side stood the queen Hilda, garbed in golden robes and a platinum crown. On the other was their adopted daughter, a purple haired girl in a light green dress and yellow sash along her waist. The minister and burmans all knelt at the center of the hall.

"Your Highness, I have brought the envoy from Burmecia."

"Please rise, Artania, Burmecians." The Regent stood as well, lifting a hand to offer his welcome. "To you all, my name is Regent Cid Fabool the ninth. This is my wife, Queen Hilda Fabool, and my daughter, Princess Eiko. I welcome you to the kingdom of Lindblum, the center of the world."

Fedrich stood and bowed at the waist. "It is an honor, your Highness. I am Sir Fedrich Castor, Dragon Knight appointed by the King Puck Hiryuu. With me is Sir Diamante Halbred, Dragon knight, and his three top students, Eria, Winston, and Perce. As representative to the King, I thank you for accepting our invitations and hope that this will foster further relations between our two nations." He reached into a pouch at his side, pulling out the wax sealed scroll that held their duties and personal message for the Regent's eyes. "My King has provided me with a letter to detail our ability and how best to use it."

Artania took the scroll and walked it to the Regent. He opened it and scanned the contents briefly, grinning beneath his steel gray mustache. He returned the scroll to his minister with a nod, crossing his arms casually.

"Very good, Sir Castor. Rest assured that I will treat you and your men with the same respect as is due for anyone with similar honors. For now, the hour is late, and I'm sure that a days travel has left you weary. Artania, please escort our guests to the visitors hall. I shall make the terms of your assignments on the morrow."

"As you command, your Highness." Artania bowed once more, then led the burman knights away.

> > >

Ruthy stretched and sighed, pleased and happy. Everything about Lindblum seemed the same as it was the day she left, busy and crowded and noisy and full of movement. Airships in the sky, people on the streets and winds that toyed with her hair all left an impression of travel, of an unending rush to accomplish all there was to do. The Industrial District looked so much better than it was after the calamity tore part of the Grand Castle away. There were many scars left from the destruction, both in buildings and people, but it felt more alive than she ever recalled it being. She was grateful that the damage left her sister and family mostly unharmed.

_'I'll finally have a chance to see the kids! Alvard and Leon, I wonder how big they are? I can't believe they have an aunt that's only twenty four, I didn't think that Illis would ever have children!'_ At that she paused, good cheer suddenly soured by her own reality. Despite her love for Fedrich, they would never be able to have a child of their own. The physical differences were too great, no amount of trying could overcome that.

Ruthy turned a lazy corner on the main street that wound along the walls of the district, seeing the familiar walls and wrought iron gates of Gordan's manor. She shoved those thought out of mind and began jogging to the gate, heartache and homesickness roiling as she neared. Everything about the manor became golden, memories flooding her heart and images of the past rushing by too fast to see. The gates were before her, and she thrust her hands out to open the barriers and enter.

They held fast.

"Wha...?" Ruthy pushed them again, but they rattled against the locks holding the two fast together. Of all the things, she never recalled the gates being locked when there was daylight out. Inside, the grounds were quiet and abandoned. This was unnerving, and when she looked up, it was evident something was awry. "It's gone?"

The Airship that belonged to her brother in law Gordan wasn't hovering behind the manor. He, after many talks with his parents, had inherited the craft so he could maintain a strong visual presence in the metropolis. Never would she suspect Gordan to be somewhere without the flying machine there to carry him from place to place. Built by his uncle, heralded as a triumph in design and architectural technique, it was too precious to ever be separate from the family.

_'Maybe he's not home?'_ It was a possibility. Gordan did travel to meet with clients whenever he had a business deal to make. Perhaps her arrival was just timed as he was away from Lindblum on business. Pursing her lips, she looked inside further to see if anyone at all was in the grounds.

"Hello?" She shouted, voice echoing off the manor.

A figure from behind a row of hedges appeared, broad shouldered and skinned like bricks. A gardener, apparently, covered in soil. "Who is it?"

"Why is the gate locked? Is Gordan home?"

"The master o' the house ain't 'ere, child! Now scurry off and stop rattling them gates."

"When will he be back?"

"Why would I know the master's routines, eh? Get off 'fore I let the guards take you!"

"Can't you let me inside? My name is Ruthy Killjoy, I'm sister to Illis Fulmen! Is anyone home that can let me in?"

"None of your business, child! Saints above, let it be and go!"

Ruthy backed away from the gate defeated, and the gardener returned to work with a smug grin. She crossed her arms, wondering how to get into the manor if no one would vouch for her. If Gordan and Illis were traveling, then there was no way anyone would let her inside on a word alone.

_'What am I going to do? I can't force my way inside, and I don't know anyone else that would go into the manor...'_

Dejected, she began walking away from the manor without direction. First day in Lindblum and already things had gone badly. Where would she sleep if Gordan wasn't around? An Inn certainly, but she only had so much money. If he was gone for a long time, her vacation might turn into begging old friends for a room and board. Clenching her hands, she walked towards an Aircab terminal with hopes that nothing else would go wrong.

* * *

**_The Author Speaks!_**

Goes to figure, it seems, that when you declare that chapters will come at a reasonable speed that karma gives you a slap to the face and delays you. Nonetheless, last week I had my friends from California up here to visit, so I spent that time relaxing, visiting Canada, and drinking heavily. 'Twas a nice break from the solitude up here in the rainy north, and my reason for slacking on the story. I've also began an information center for this story as well, and that ought to be ready in the near future.


	6. Chapter two, Assignment

This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, many of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! _Remember, Italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events._

Enjoy...

* * *

:A Moment of Discord: 

Chapter Two: Assignment

The morning came early and slow, Fedrich waking with the sunlight pouring into the bedroom windows. From so high in the sky, dawn was a blinding sight to behold and a wondrous vision to those who appreciated them. He looked around the regal decor of the room assigned to him, nostalgic of his times in the Regulators. This time, however, he wouldn't be starting with a patrol of the grand wall and hunting monsters. Instead, he was surely to be given a task of much greater significance.

He leaned up from bed, sheets falling to his waist, and took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. Satisfied, he shuffled off the comfortable mattress and went to the small chest of drawers opposite the beds. Slipping into his official uniform made him more confidant that whatever tasks given him would be easily executed. Mythril mail hidden beneath a white shirt and forest colored jacket, thick leather pants and tough dragonskin wraps for his feet and hands. All together it was a flexible design, one that offered defense for those who excelled at maneuverability. His glaive and sword waited on a weapons rack by the door, but he left those for later.

_'Time to see if the others are early risers...'_

He entered the hallway in the suite, a small section of the royal castle assigned for guests of the Regent. Fedrich was assigned his own room as leader of the squad, Eria one for privacy from prying eyes, and the others in a third. He went to Diamante's first with a knock.

"Hey." Fedrich shouted at the wood. "I'm coming in!"

He opened the door, seeing the elder Dragon Knight inspecting his gear with a careful eye and casual touch. Diamante seemed in his own small world, focused upon the craft that he wore for years beyond many people's lives. Clawed fingers turned his lance over, feeling out nicks in the honed metal tips and wear along the shaft. It was a miserable task, but one that was as important as any other rule in combat. Any flaw in the state of a weapon could spell the death of the warrior who wielded it.

"Early as ever, I see." Diamante commented, eyes never veering from his task.

"It's better for the body, I think, to get up when the sun does and go to sleep when it falls."

"Truer words haven't been spoken in a while."

"Are the others...?"

A grin touched his lips. "Sleeping like rocks."

"I figured." Fedrich walked to the beds of each knight and tore the quilts away from them, tossing them on the floor. Winston and Perce both woke quickly, groggy and agitated at the rude awakening. Winston hissed at the time, hand brushing straw colored hair back behind his ears.

"What's this supposed to be?" He grunted.

Fedrich gave the youth a stern glare. "The sun's up, and so are we."

"But it's early..." Perce began.

"He said up, wastrels, so get yourselves up and proper!" Diamante barked, authority snapping their nerves to action.

They quickly shed their sleeping clothes and put on proper attire for knights in training. Each had thick leather breeches and a deep orange shirt covering a copper-ring vest, typical of trainees working to become proper knights. In difference to that, their uniforms had the crest of circled dragon on each shoulder and bright gold bands trimming the edges of their shirts. It was a new make by the seamstresses in Burmecia, something to identify a Dragon Knight in training by. Fedrich found them appropriate, although a little bland for meeting with royalty. They would have to make due.

"Well now, looking like knights for once, eh?" Diamante set his lance aside. "Winston, go wake the girl."

The burly knight looked ready to snap words, but held himself back and left the room for Eria's.

"So, any clue to our duties, Sir Fedrich?"

Fedrich shook his head. "Not really. I only know it has something to do with the rumors about the nobles staging a revolt."

"Feh, bloody aristocrats always out to own the world 'n all its goods." He stood up, then set his lance by the door and rubbed his knuckles. "Let me tell you something, lad, nine of every ten people in this world never give a hollar about the rulers that make their laws. You can cry in the name of his majesty to them all you like, and they'll give you the boot same as anyone else ordering them around. People are smarter than we take them for. Left to their own, the world would get along just fine."

"So you don't believe in a king?"

Diamante snorted. "Think back a little, child! We only had a king in Burmecia for the last three hundred years! Up 'till then Burmecia was just a city of people that lived together for safety and social comfort. It's only when someone decided to make laws out of common sense that we got us a king."

Fedrich arched an eyebrow, wondering if Diamante was merely lecturing for the sake of talk or was really trying to convince him that a king wasn't needed in this world. Such talk from a respected Dragon Knight could be considered treason to another man, but Fedrich wasn't so quick to judge another point of view. Diamante had traveled the many lands of the continent, surely he was entitled to an opinion different from his home. History too had many stories of kings that were unfit to rule. Even Alexandria proved the dangers of a Monarch with too great a thirst for power.

"Well...despite that, we're still obligated to uphold the laws set by the King. Try and keep that in mind."

"Don't think that I ignore 'em entirely, lad, I just hold more faith in the smarts of the common man than most."

The door swung open with Eria standing at the jam with a weary expression beneath twisted locks of hair, Winston merely scowling at the hour. Satisfied that they were awake, Fedrich gave each a look to catch their eyes.

"Alright, today we're going to have our formal meeting with the Regent, so I want everyone to be respectful and attentive. Don't let yourselves slouch, keep your eyes focused on the front, and most of all, don't speak unless prompted to. I want this to go smooth and easy. Understood?"

"Yessir!" They snapped together.

"Good! Artania said for us to wait in the kitchen hall. Eria, would you please tend your appearance?"

"Huh? Oh yes...yessir, I mean!" She scampered back to her private room.

Minutes later she returned to the hall, proudly bearing a similar outfit to her classmates. Hers bore flared sleeves and more intricate patterns along the hems. It was slight, but enough to satisfy the tastes of a woman who wanted more than a cut and dry uniform.

"Ready, then?"

"Yessir!"

"Good. Let's go."

The five left the room and walked to the end of the guest suite, entering one of many hallways that intersected the castle like a maze. Following signs and advice from attendants and pages, they found their way to a large hall illuminated with electrical lights and showing a stunning view of the western ocean. The hall was filled with benched, many occupied with soldiers on the start of their mornings. A pleasant din of conversation echoed off the walls and raised ceiling, welcoming those who came. They sat down at a circular table, and Fedrich ordered coffee and tea as well as biscuits for their light meal. They received the food as Artania arrived in the hall and noticed them.

"Ah, good to see you awake." He stood alongside the table, hand folded in front of him.

"I always rise early, Minister. Care for some coffee?"

"No thank you. We should go soon, by the way."

The elder Dragon Knight let his teacup rattle the saucer to get attention. "My lads need something in their stomachs to work on, sir Minister, so give us a minute to have a drink and bite to eat."

Artania seemed annoyed at Diamante's tone, but nodded his approval. The knights hurriedly ate the honeyed rolls and had plenty of tea before finishing, then stood and followed Artania's slow steps back to the hallways. They took seemingly random paths, going up and down stairwells and into corridors that seemed badly unkempt. Occasionally they passed through halls that seemed populated purely by soldiers and military officials, the sounds of mock battle echoing along the stone walls. Stopping at a door, Artania took out a large key and unlocked it with a heavy clank. Pushing it open with some effort, a wide and open-air cavern emerged before them.

"The Regent awaits." Artania motioned them to go ahead.

"What is this place?" Fedrich asked. There were crates, bits of metal and parts scattered across the dock. Chains, platforms, and great hooks hung from the ceiling, all ready for any ship to come in need of maintenance. It was a strange place to meet with the Regent of a nation.

"This is one of the docks for the Viltgance Airships we employ to protect Lindblum. We are currently preparing an Exodus class craft to ferry you to your first assignment."

"And that is?" Diamante asked.

"You will see. I have other duties to attend, so remember to be courteous to his grace!"

"We will." Fedrich answered for his charges, walking ahead to meet with the Regent and his escort.

Regent Cid was chatting with a stocky man dressed in oil stained clothes about the center of the dock. Tools on his belt pegged him as an engineer, probably the head of the department. Guards stood around the regent armored in coppery metal and bearing combat hammers that were stereotypical of a Lindblum soldier. They stopped several paces short of the Regent and knelt.

"Regent Fabool, we are here per your request and await your orders!" Fedrich barked in military fashion.

The Regent wrapped up his talk with the engineer and faced the knights, an easy smile on his face. "Very good of you, Sir Castor. You may stand."

They did so, keeping their eyes averted out of courtesy. The Regent seemed much more relaxed than they, but his place as a king entitled him to be as such. He folded his hands together and gathered his words. "I am sorry to have met you here, but time is of the essence in this matter. I am sure that you know of the potential revolt that is brewing among the nobles in my kingdom?"

"I am, your grace." Fedrich replied.

"Currently that revolt is becoming a reality. Coral Cove, a fishing community to the north, has refused to send goods or monies to Lindblum in protest to the meager tax on each household. The nobleman Jon Peradin has refused to arrange for the taxes to be sent here, instead hoarding it for this revolt. This cannot go on. I will be sending one of my inquisitors to negotiate the situation. You are to go with him and make sure that nothing occurs while he deals with the Duke."

"Understood, your grace."

"This may seem a paltry use of your skill, but you are honorable warriors. This will show that I don't intent to use force to make him comply. I wish to convey an image that I and my allies wish to see a peaceful end to this trouble. If he wants to negotiate the tax, then he could have arranged to speak with me instead of following the lead of the dissatisfied few."

"When will we be leaving?"

The Regent glanced a look at a pocketwatch chained to his maroon vest. "As soon as possible. The November Wind is due in a short hour. Attendants should be gathering your packs now and bringing them here. The Inquisitor will be coming shortly as well, along with a small escort of my guards to act alongside your men."

"How long will the talks take?"

"Perhaps no longer than a few days, or perhaps several. I will insist on staying put until the Duke either agrees to meet with me or continues following the laws as they are set. You will be either protecting him as he confers with the Duke or patrolling the town to make sure that no overt acts against Lindblum occur."

"That we can handle, your grace. Might I ask what the Inquisitor's name is?"

"He is Mackenzie Terrace, one of my lesser known advisors. He has great skill in negotiating with even the most stubborn people, but has a tendency to make them equally as agitated with his bluntness. My council has advised that blunt arguments may be our only solution the Duke will understand."

"_Macky_?" Fedrich was stunned. That name belonged to a man who seemed ill suited to the slow workings in the Regency. An advisor to the Security Council, yes, but inquisitor under the lead of the Regent? He was again reminded of his time away from Lindblum. Six years can do much to a man.

The Regent tilted his head in curiosity. "Do you know him, Sir Castor?"

He nodded. "He was a friend of mine while I lived here several years ago. He and I worked for the Regulators, the separate unit that patrols the Grand Wall to assist the guards."

"Hmm, a strange coincidence! That is very good to hear, Sir Castor, and a benefit for all sides." The Regent drew out the pocketwatch, lips frowning at the time. "Sadly, I must be going. Meetings wait for no one, not even a Regent! I wish you and your comrades good luck and safe travel, Sir Castor."

The dragoons knelt again. "Thank you for your honor, Regent Fabool. We will do our utmost to ensure that your wishes are fulfilled!"

"I would expect nothing less of such fine warriors! I wish you good fortune on your tasks. Farewell."

> > >

The occupants of the bar, those at least sober enough to concentrate on something aside from the bottom of a tankard, were watching the two men at the central table. Each looked calm and focused on the other, eyes narrow and bodies tense. One, dressed in aging clothes and a ratty cloak, clenched his right hand several times as he glared. The other, in fine clothes and jewelry, stared back with mad eyes and licked the corner of his mouth with his tongue.

"Go!" They shouted at the same time, startling the patrons. "Rock! Paper! Knives!"

Two hands flashed to the middle of the table, a grubby hand flat and a gloved one with one finger pointed out.

The fairly dressed man grinned in triumph. "Ha! Winning seems to be my forte tonight!" He reached down to a small shot glass and picked it up, downing the expensive liquor in one gulp. His eyes twitched and he wheezed as the drink simmered in his stomach, but he smiled still. "Barkeep! We need another bottle, my good friend!"

"You 'aven't paid for the first one, yet!"

"That's because I said I'd rather burn the place down than pay to get drunk! Honestly, it should be a crime to force people to pay for their pleasure."

"Looky 'ere, gents, you will either-"

"Kill you...!" The dirty man cried in a stupor, pausing to let the words fall into place. "Unless...drink."

"That's right, my friend, he would _kill_ just for a bottle of fine spirits! You can either give us another bottle or have your tavern burnt down or get a knife in the throat! My, such a simple choice for most people."

The barkeep seemed a little edgy, but reluctantly picked out another bottle of old whisky from his reserves from Treno. The man in finery had already lit one patron on fire because he called him girly looking. The drunkard with him seemed less harmless, but the way he kept fiddling with his knives made those nearby wary. He would remove the two, but his brother wouldn't touch them. Despite size, he didn't want to risk getting killed on account of money. The barkeep walked out from the counter and placed the bottle before the two, removing the empty one.

"I still don't get it."

"Get what, my fine fellow?"

"Your game. Rock, paper, and knives can't be a very exciting drinking game."

"Who said anything about it needing to be exciting? The point is to get drunk quickly...so we made this game to speed the process along! Besides, I'm good at it. Try me."

"Eh?"

"Try me!" The man giggled. "Go on! If you win I'll pay you ten times the tab we have."

This caught the barkeep's attention. He smiled, figuring an easy win against one already under the table. "Sure, lad, let's 'ave a game."

"Right! Ready..." He wiggled his fingers, smiling widely. "Go!"

"Rock! Paper! Knives!"

The barkeep lost. The winner opened the new bottle and took another shot.

"Alright, you can get back to your labors, my friend, we're fine for now." He shook the grubby man's shoulders. "Redknife! Wake up, you drunk, we're still playing!"

"Paper..." Redknife muttered. "I win...?"

"No you don't! That was his and my game, not yours!"

"Oh."

"Come on, let's keep going! I'm just starting to catch a buzz!"

"How is it that you haven't caught yourself a trip to passing out?" A female voice asked the man.

The man in finery looked to the speaker, taking a moment to recognize the daughter of the Highguard nobleman. "Oh! Oh my good lady Flaure, so lovely to see you here!" He stood uneasily and pulled a chair from another table for her. "Please sit! Have a drink! Want to play me?"

She sat and gave him the eye. "Play?"

"A drinking game!" He sat and smiled wide.

"No thanks."

"Oh, you are a spoilsport, my lady Flaure. No fun at all with you, is there?"

"Why _are_ you here, Brant? Shouldn't you be at the manor studying the plans of the Grand Castle? Father is growing upset at your absence of duty."

Brant, purple hair in a tangle, leaned forward with a racy grin. "Well, aside from entertaining the whims of the local women, I will be quite serious in saying that I just want to be drunk like he is."

She looked to Redknife, the man barely awake on the tabletop. "Desmond is a worthless fool. Following his actions is a waste of effort, Brant."

"No, he's got it right, my dear lady! Listen." He leaned forward still, putting up a hand as if to pass a secret. "In all honesty, can you tell me that this man looks stressed or worried about life? Well, does he? Of course he doesn't, and it's all because he's spent so much time under the bottle that all trouble just passes right by him. That's the secret to his success!"

"Success?" Flaure arched an eyebrow.

"Yes! So many people pass away from undue trouble or have terrible stress and headaches. Not so with my good man Redknife! He's got it down pat! Nothing stuns this guy!"

"Nothing at all stuns him, good or bad."

Brant grinned lopsided. "Well, not everything is perfect these days. I'm sure he'll find a solution to that any day now."

Flaure sighed, standing. "Look, if you're drunk, I'll just return home and let you sort this out with the Duke."

"I'm not drunk at all, my dearest lady Flaure, not in the slightest! I'm sober like a priest and sharp as a needle, capable of anything you need."

"You've finished an entire bottle of old Figaro's soul! If that's not enough to get you drunk, you must have been cheated."

"Oh no, it's the real thing, my lady! I'm simply crazy is all, really!"

She paused at his declaration, clearly considering that he could very well be mad. His arrival in Kohlingen, and all subsequent meetings with the mage revealed his eccentric mannerisms and actions. At times he seemed sane, yet the glint in his eyes spoke something deeper at work inside. "Crazy?"

"Oh yes! You see, crazy people don't get drunk, they just get talkative. I'm trying to be the first to overcome that challenge."

She looked at him, eyes seeing eyes, and again found that expression of inner discord hidden in his face. He smiled wider.

"You see, a man who is crazy is never able to escape the reality that he is stuck in. Mayhap, on that tangent, you could say that I'm trying to be sane for the first time in my life."

Flaure put a neutral mask over her worry, then turned and left the tavern. Brant, apparently satisfied with his work, slouched back in his chair and picked up the bottle. He drank heavily, coughing and grinning still. The opportunities given him in the world were more than he could have wished for. The freedom to use his skills as he felt, to bask in the glory that few others lay claim to. It was a hypnotizing tonic, a grand one that he felt would never grow sour.

"Mayhap, the mad seek a shred of sanity within the bottle as the sane do a speck of pleasure."

> > >

Flaure frowned, frustrated over the efforts to glean a hint into the plans that her father had set. It wasn't enough to know that it would succeed. She had to know what would be done, by who and when. She was second in command for the Nanten militia, surely that entitled her to be involved in the planning for this attack on the Regent. Apparently, to others, it was not. Her brother's haughty attitude to her lesser stand in the plan was enough reason to choke it out of the closest person privy to it. Brant was a failure, drunk as he was. A human skilled in black magic, and he modeled his evenings after a drunken thief. Maybe he wasn't as immune to the madness as he claimed to be.

_'Whatever father's plan is, Brant must be the key to it...'_

A shriek pierced the night, and Flaure looked back to the tavern. A man came running out, slapping his chest to extinguish the flames that ate at his shirt. Several patrons more followed, panicked but unharmed. The first man tore his shirt off and stamped it out, swearing at the tavern and walking away with wounded pride. A loud issuing of voices erupted from the open door, echoing along the quiet street.

Flaure pursed her lips, deliberately exhaling a slow, pent-in breath.

_'Madness indeed...'

* * *

_

**_The Author Speaks!_**

Well, the story has been going along at a decent pace for me since I finished up on the plot and events therein. Hopefully with that skeleton in place I can begin working towards my goals with a better understanding of what needs to be done. The chapters here and those in the future will continue along this same line of a scene by scene look at their actions, and it will be some time before we get all the heroes and villians together for the major turning points. It's necessary so that you can understand the individual motives of the characters before they get lost in the main plot.

**Jaysinya**, **Robshi**, Diamante may come off as an ass, but he's an old and stubborn Dragon Knight that wasn't around to see the dramatic events that ruined his home. If someone told you that a metropolis was razed by a giant dragon, surely you'd have some qualms about it as well. Besides, not all people are open to believe whatever is told them.

**Omega Gilgamesh**, thanks for the praise. I hope that I'll be able to fit in enough description and detail so you don't feel lacking, it's something I like in abundance as well.


	7. Chapter three, Strain

This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, many of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! _Remember, Italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events._

Enjoy...

* * *

:A Moment of Discord: 

Chapter Three: Strain

"What do you mean that we're prisoners here?" Illis asked.

The nobleman, briefly tasting his herbal tea, looked at the woman with little more than an inkling of sympathy. In all reality, he blamed her husband and his stubborn hold on the old world for her situation. He set the cup on the saucer, then folded his hands on the tabletop. Her appearance was very ladylike for a change, and he had trouble pinning any anger to her. Wife to his enemy, perhaps, but she was still noble and deserved respect.

"It's as simple as that, milady." Oberon replied. "You and your sons will be staying here while Gordan works to complete my Airship."

"But...we agreed to make it for you! Why keep us here?"

"Because your husband doesn't approve of my intents for it. As such, he needed a little motivation to make sure it's finished on schedule."

Illis looked conflicted, lips quivering as her mind raced. "What are you making him do?"

"Simply constructing an Airship, milady, nothing more. Since you probably don't know, I have made modifications to the model so it can be mounted with weapons."

"Weapons?"

"Yes, cannons so that I can strike at that damn Regent from on high! He suspects nothing, and will be able to do nothing once my craft is complete."

Illis regarded Oberon with a sense of dread. Somehow she knew he was hiding something from his attitude during the past days, and the rumors around Lindblum added to that. Now, it seemed that all was true with this man. He was a power-hungry nobleman seeking revenge against the Regency for the Mist Wars forty years back. He was a nobleman seeking to shatter the three great nations back into the morass of states and territories that made up society in the old days.

She glared daggers at him. "You cannot do this."

"I have, Illis, and I will continue to do so until my demands are met."

"I _won't_ let you do this!" She slammed her hands onto the table, standing. "I won't let you keep my sons prisoner here."

Oberon stood as well. "Do consider that you are completely in my control, milady. You will find no sympathetic ear in this manor, and even should you escape, there is nowhere for you to go. Burdened with two children, your odds of surviving the wilderness are quite slim."

Illis bared her teeth in a malicious grin. "Don't underestimate me, Oberon."

"And don't underestimate me, either." He clapped his hands, and the door of the study opened to let enter two guards. "Please take Miss Illis to her room."

"You can't...!"

"Know this!" He barked, cutting her argument off. "I will keep you in your suite, Illis, and with the freedom to traverse the guest hall and the outer gardens. The more you struggle, the worse those keepings will become. Simply live here as a guest and you'll enjoy the same luxuries as I."

"A bird in a gilded cage, then?"

"Yes, but it is gilded after all, and that is no reason for disapproval." He turned and walked to a bookcase, seeking a heavy tome to read. "Have a pleasant afternoon. I'll send a servant for you at sunfall to sup with me."

The hirelings led Illis out of the study, her expression twisted in a mask of fear and anger. Her inner voice fumed, wanting to take up his challenge and flee back to Gordan's side. That voice was silenced quickly by the fear that seized her heart regarding her sons. She couldn't do anything that would bring them into danger, not her own innocent flesh and blood. One of the men tugged at her arm to take her, but she wrenched the limb back. He tried again, but Illis stepped back and glared at him.

"I can walk on my own."

"Don't be gettin' all huffy, missie, yer not in the position to boss me around." He sneered.

"Lead, then."

The second man, silent in her defiance, stepped up and slapped her face with the back of his leathery hand. The pain stung and shocked her, hand reaching up instinctively to feel out the hurt. Her eyes betrayed fear, and the man gave a throaty chuckle.

"Don't think we'll be nice like the Duke is, miss, 'cause he don't see everything here. You might take a fall if you don't watch yer tongue."

She forced her hand down, eyeing him with all the muster she had. Neither were worthy of seeing her weak, not when she needed all her strength to keep from sinking into a depression. She was strong, a proven warrior, born of Ulura and heir to white magics rare to the world. Her battles took her from monsters to assassins, and never did she allow her fear to rule. This would be like any other trial, and one that she would win. She would have to win. Was there any other alternative when her children were in danger of harm?

"Well then, milady, would it please you to come with us?" The first man bowed, lips loud with sarcasm.

Illis walked down the hall to her suite, not bothering a response to his insults.

_'Don't get cocky, Illis, you can't take risks like you used to. Play it safe, an opportunity will arrive eventually...'_

> > >

The November Wind, bearing only a slight semblance to any seagoing vessel in the world, was also as steady as one in the open sky. The thrum of the engines could be felt on every surface, the Airship itself swaying back and forth as it passed through crosswinds and other currents. It was hardly enough to be a nuisance, but to a man who had never flown, each little motion seemed to spell their doom. The occupants were mostly relaxed save the Burmecian knights, the students and teacher all still and looking around in wonder and fear. Fedrich was well, albeit nervous inside. His companion looked as if he could sleep as easy here as on a goose feather mattress on land.

Macky chuckled, a smug grin on his face. "Unbelievable..."

Fedrich gave his old acquaintance a odd look. The Macky he remembered was a stocky man, dressed in common pants and a shirt with his hair in snarls. Now he was in royal blue finery and had his hair closely cropped, body thinner and paler from time indoors. It was a radical difference, and one that Fedrich had to remind himself of each time he glanced the councilman. "What?"

"Us. You a Dragon Knight, me a negotiator for the Regent. Well, you were bound for something big in the knighthood, but me? Honestly, I don't even remember how they figured me for this. Sure, I can talk people around a while, but discussing politics and the fates of society? I didn't think I had it in me."

"Well, you were always busy in those meetings back then. I guess it isn't all that different, is it?"

"Not really, I suppose. I just...don't see how arguing about patrols and salaries is the same as taxes and laws. Except for the arguing and shouting, of course."

A grin creased Fedrich's lips. "So how long have you been working as an Inquisitor?"

"Oh, something like a year and a half, I think."

"Do you like it?"

"It sure pays a lot better. Other 'n that, it's pretty easy. So far all I've been doing is work at the castle. The few times I've been given a person to negotiate with were little things, qualms about importing goods and other waste."

"That's good."

"So what about you, Fed? How's life back home, you and Ruthy?"

Fedrich was quiet a moment, considering exactly how his life was going. He had been happy at first, reunited with his family and friends after many months. The feeling lingered as he delved back into his normal routines, but the memories of Ruthy and his destined role in the coming war always lurked in the back of his mind. The anxiety, the waiting for this war to start, it had slowly consumed his thoughts until he was hardly able to keep track of the time. That was when he went to the registrar and enlisted into the Knighthood, determined to the upkeep of his body for the coming crisis. Fierce trials and obstacles barely slowed his advancement in the soldiery, earning a Sergeant's rank when the North Gate was assaulted. That skirmish, his famous rallying cry on the plains, nearly broke him. He considered it payment, living through the night after sacrificing his happiness for so many months to do this thing.

"We're doing fine." Fedrich opted to leave out the troubles they had concerning her being human in a Burmecian city. He didn't want to worry Macky about her, she had grown used to the looks long ago.

"How's the city?"

"It looks a lot better. People are working on it day and night, even the people who survived Cleyra. I guess it took a disaster to finally reunite our two people."

"I heard. I'm sorry 'bout that."

"It's okay."

After the fight, after recovery and healing, he heard of the destruction of the great tree Cleyra by a monstrous lance of flame. He witnessed the disappearance of the Mist from the land, then its sudden return a scant few weeks later and again its retreat from the air. He only heard that the Mist was gone because the Alexandrian princess had killed the thing that made it. The Regent had taken his aerial fleet far to the north to help her, yet only a few of his vessels returned. Apparently the Mist disappeared around the Airships, and without it they had no power to keep aloft and fell into the ocean.

"So how is Ruthy doing, anyway? She sends so many letters you could make a dictionary out of 'em."

"She's been okay. Her play isn't doing so well, but she's happy. I think staying here a while will do her a lot of good. She misses her sister and everyone. I think she even misses all the noise in Lindblum, all you can hear back home is rain."

"Well, that's an odd idea."

"She just needs time among humans for a change. Burmecia hardly gets any visitors, and she doesn't have many friends."

"She must be smitten with you to put up with that."

Fedrich blushed lightly, glad for his storm gray fur. "Yeah."

"So have you two...oh wait, nevermind."

"What?"

"It's nothing, forget it. It was a stupid question."

"Come on, what is it?"

Macky gave him a look, and somehow it communicated exactly what didn't need to be said in public. Fedrich's eyes glanced around nervously, seeing Diamante chatting with his students on the opposite row of chairs. Winston, however, had an eye looking his way. His expression told that he was also aware of the awkward question. He of anyone else showed the most disdain to the union between burman and human. Fedrich sucked in air between his teeth and sighed. "Right..."

"Anyway! So what's the business with your King sendin' you here?"

"It's just a gesture of kindness to the Regent. King Hiryuu is tired of sticking to conservative ways, so he's trying to build better relations with the other nations. Since we got word of this revolt being more than rumor, he sent us here to help."

"Izzat so? Well, can't argue with having a familiar face around."

"Yeah. So any idea what you need to do about this Duke Peradin?"

Macky let his expression settle from racy smiles, preferring a neutral frown. "Duke Jon Peradin has always been a shaky ally to the Regent. He's the first to argue against new laws, and the population tends to do the same. I dunno what set him off this time, but he's adamant about defying the Regent."

"Huh..."

"I don't know the guy personally, but he's got to be a reasonable sort. Hopefully all it'll take it some blunt truth to get him back in order. I don't want to end up getting on the wrong end of someone's sword 'cause he doesn't want to reason with me."

"What kind of strength does he have?"

"He's got the city patrols loyal to him, plus his own merry band of soldiers to protect his manor. Anything else is just a guess."

Fedrich turned the information over in his head. He was confidant that any opposition he encountered would be easy to deal with, but he wasn't sure about his allies. Diamante was certainly a better match against any common fighter, but his students might not be prepared. None of the three had fought against an opponent determined to kill or die. It would certainly be a running of the gauntlet with them if worse came to worse. "Nothing serious there?"

Macky chuckled. "He's got nothin' on you, Fed, even back when you were a gangly kid fresh with the Regulators. Hell, looking at you tells me he's gonna want to play nice soon as we land."

Fedrich shared the smile. "I hope so..."

The Airship made the rest of the flight in good speed, passing low across the great inlet and landing just outside the town walls. From the sky, Coral Cove seemed as normal a fishing community as any on the world, the coast covered in stone seawalls and bristling with ships of the trade. The houses were all of sun bleached stone, topped with ornate shingles like the scales of a fish. Marine decorations, and a strangely large number of rusted anchors, littered the walls of the homes to reinforce the feel of a people connected with the sea. Fedrich felt a strange familiarity in the sight of a city rooted in its culture. It reminded him greatly of Burmecia and the ties to history the very walls spoke of.

The November Wind hovered carefully above the ground, lowering ramps to deposit the luggage and materials the Inquisitor and his men took with them. Crewmembers carefully arranged them a safe distance from the windy engines, the knights taking a brief check of the environs to ensure a safe arrival. The Duke wasn't outright violent to the Regent, but none of the men put treachery or rogue actions below him and his protectors.

"You got everything?" Macky yelled over the din of the engines to his friend.

"I do!" Fedrich looked at his charges. "You all have your things?"

Diamante and the students all shouted affirmatives, and the small number of Lindblum knights were comfortable with their own armor and small personal effects. Certain that they had all their supplies, Macky yelled back instructions to the crewman nearest to him. The ramps slid back into the Airship, and with a deepening roar of the engines, it rose into the sky and began the trip back to the Grand Castle above them.

"Well! Alright, hearing seems back to normal." Macky dusted off his pants and coat, not bothering to deal with his mussed hair without a mirror.

"So where do we go now, sir Inquisitor?" Diamante pointed towards a gate in the city walls. "The men at arms coming from the city seem eager to meet with us."

Macky looked at the coming escort with disdain. "Well, we are guests of the Duke, so I guess he's making nice with us. Don't talk unless you need to, I'll be the one they're interested in."

They waited patiently as the dozen men on horseback came to their location. Fedrich was curious at the leggy beasts, since chocobos were more common for riding. A horse couldn't match their endurance, but old habits die hard in human cities. They kept a safe distance from them, only their leader dismounting and removing his metal helmet. Windswept hair and an old, tanned face met the group, and he saluted in military fashion to the Inquisitor.

"Welcome to Coral Cove, gents. My name is Captain Hawina, I've been given the task of seein' you safely to the Duke's residence."

"I thank you for the warm welcome." Macky nodded, offering a hand.

Hawina took it, eyeing Fedrich and the soldiers around him. "Odd bunch you're with, eh?"

"My Burmecian friends are here as a gift from their King, and I prefer it if you don't call them odd."

"Sorry 'bout that, we don't get many outsiders here."

_'Outsiders...'_ Fedrich frowned at the term. While it wasn't explicit in meaning, he still felt the barb strike home. Even in the modern world there was still fear and hatred of other races like his own. Hundreds of years and it hadn't been weeded out from the mind. This, Fedrich mused, was one of the better mysteries of society that he pondered during his time in Lindblum.

"Well, let's make our way in, then. I'm sure your Duke is eager to talk."

"I wouldn't expect it." Hawina commented, giving Macky an honest look. "Frankly, Sir, I don't care much for the Regent or his rubbish. We've done fine without him, and the less I've got people lookin' at me with taxes in mind, the happier I am."

"Then I hope your Duke is prepared to deal with those consequences." Macky didn't mind the clear statement of defiance, only giving the Captain a brief look to reinforce his words.

"Right. Follow me, if you please."

The Captain took the reigns of his horse and walked with the group, his men riding back to the gates and removing gawking citizens from the entrance. Fedrich studied the walls, seeing them several feet higher than a man's reach. It wasn't a wall to offer protection from attack or siege, but something to define the split between the city and the wilderness. He recalled how monsters in the Mist would terrorize towns, so a cheap wall would be enough to ward them away. Now it looked odd in a peaceful land devoid of aggressive monsters.

The peace, however, was treading on dangerous grounds.

> > >

Ruthy stood in the square, staring at the double doors of the Regulator's Hall. Memories of her time here, the pain and joy infused with the sight of the old building and it's off-white painted walls, were floating clear through her eyes. Her teenage life was attached to this place, a physical link to her past that filled her thoughts. Gerick and the patrols, Gordan and Illis, Fedrich and the Festival of the Hunt, they all felt tantalizingly real at the moment.

She took several steps, hesitated at the door with its rusty hinges, then knocked.

A little boy pulled the door open a crack, eyes wide as he gaped at her. "Y-yes?"

Ruthy smiled to put the child at ease. "Hello there. I'm looking for a man named Gerick. Is he here?"

"Gewick?" The child repeated.

"He is...was the leader of the Regulators. Is he here?"

At this the child seemed comfortable, shaking his head. "Nope. Mista Setter is the leader now."

"Well, can I see Mister Setter?"

"Nope. He is on the patrols now."

The redhead sighed in frustration. Two days and she was still without any sign of her friends or family. No one seemed to know where Gordan and Illis had gone to, or wouldn't speak of it to her. When she checked her old house out of a strange wish to see how it was, a Qu had moved in and asked her for frogs. Now, on her second full day of looking, she was getting irritated at her luck.

"Alright, just one more question. Do you know where Gerick went?"

A shake of the head. "Uh-uh."

She smiled again. "Okay, thank you for helping me."

The child grinned, happy to be praised. "You're welcome." He closed the door thereafter.

Ruthy turned from the door, gritting her teeth in anger. _'Dammit! Why can't I find anyone here? I know Gerick still works for the Regulators, and Gordan didn't say a thing about traveling! Where _is_ everybody?'_

The redhead stalked away from the square, heading for a terminal to catch an Aircab for the Business District. So far she had checked every last place that they could have been at. The only one left was Corban at the Hide shop where they sold their goods at after a patrol. His shack was near Hunter's Gate, so another twenty minute walk was ahead of her. The shoes she wore did little to ease the ache in her feet from so much walking.

_'I must be out of shape, sitting at home all day. This wouldn't bother me at all when we were still living here...'_

She pressed on despite the pain, content to at least get some decent exercise if anything was to be accomplished. The midday crowds were rushing with their daily chores, children running in gaggles and adults chatting in spare time. The Airships inside the great walls of Lindblum provided a backdrop of humming, a gentle din that felt like a salve to her heart and soul. Closing her eyes a moment, everything felt right as it was when she left to stay with Fedrich. She could almost believe that she was walking with everyone to another day of patrols, working in her safe routine and without a care in the world. Eyes open, she could tell how different the world was. No one was walking with her, and Fedrich's presence was absent from her side.

_'I guess you really can't go back...you can only cherish the memories...'_

Pushing through the usual crowds of people around the terminal, she boarded an Aircab for the Business District and stared at the view of the Grand Castle. She felt at peace, surrounded by humanity, no one judging her for being human, no anger or resentment. At the least, she smiled at the sun that lent warmth to all the land. Living in Burmecia for so long had left her with pale as snow skin. Ruthy almost relished the chance that she would get sunburnt, tanned and given a memory of her time under the sun. The craft landed in the ground terminal, door open and people departing the cabin.

Ruthy again waded through the human tides that overwhelmed the terminal, surfacing in the streets and the flow of people moving up and down the great avenue. Her steps drew her to the Hunter's Gate, close to where the thickest number of businesses sat and the most exotic of goods were sold. After passing by numerous carts, ignoring the calls for a moments time, she found the right alleyway to Corban's old hideaway. The darkness in the close confines opened to a private square, the illuminated sign in front of his shop still alight. The inside was the same as ever, chests of material pushed against the walls and the large oak table in the middle.

"Afternoon, how can I be of help to you?" A youngish voice called from behind a wall.

"Corban?" Ruthy didn't recognize this voice, it was far too smooth to be the old man's.

"Nah, I'm his son, Ginnis." The owner of the voice came into the room, short frame and all muscles. "Well well, milady, you're a rare sight for these eyes!"

Ruthy got straight to the point. "What happened to Corban?"

Ginnis hesitated, his lips pressed tight. "The old man took a nasty one durin' the attacks. He couldn't work, so I came to keep his business going."

"Is he here?"

Ginnis again paused, glancing back. "What's your name, miss?"

"Ruthy Killjoy. I was with the Regulators about four years ago."

"Huh." Ginnis turned to the back of the store. "Hey, old man! There's a miss named Ruthy Killjoy here! You know her?"

"Ruthy? Now there's a name I 'aven't heard in ages." The voice sounded like gravel, and Ruthy knew it had to be him. "Send her on back, kid."

Ginnis nodded, looking back at Ruthy. He leaned in to whisper to her. "He looks bad, so try to be nice, right?"

"Of course." She walked past the large table, anxious as she went by an invisible barrier. Beyond here was unfamiliar territory, and she looked around like a curious child. Passing by a wall that separated the front from the back, she saw a table and several chairs underneath the glow of oil lamps and a dusty dark window. Someone was sitting in the far chair, skin pallid and a hand clutching a large wood tankard.

"Hey now, if it ain't my favorite redhead." The man chuckled quietly. "You've grown a tad, little lady."

"Corban?" Ruthy stared despite herself. The Corban she knew was a broad shouldered man thick with muscles and had a grin atop his face natural as the sun. Now he was so much thinner, skin pale from lack of light and his physique wasted like an old man. She looked away, hoping she didn't offend him. "What happened to you?"

"Got inta a mess with one o' those demons, girl, back when Alexandria attacked. Tried 'ta burn me like a side 'a steak, but I got the bugger. Problem was I wasn't quick enough 'ta avoid this."

"I'm sorry..."

"No need to be sorry, little miss." He sat up straighter, revealing layers of scars on his face and a pale, sightless eye. "So what brings you 'ere?"

"I've been looking for Gerick all over this city, but I can't find him anywhere. He's not at the Hall or at his favorite bars, I...I don't know where else to go. Have you seen him?"

Corban sighed, mumbling to himself. "Ol' Gerick's been here."

Ruthy lit up, clasping her hands. "When?"

"Was 'bout three months ago, and miss, I tell you he's never looked so bad. Somethin's got the guy shaken up, miss, like someone's dancin' all over his grave. I heard he was jest helpin' new kids in the Regulators get tip-top before they go out."

Ruthy felt her hands tremble at the news. Her letters to him had always been replied to in a timely matter, and he wrote of decent times and little trouble. Somehow it didn't surprise her if they were lies to keep her from worrying. Gerick had always kept his troubles to himself, never letting anything hold him back from the patrol. Now it sounded like that determined effort had put him on his last legs.

"Where is he?"

"I dunno. The Security guys ought 'ta know since he works with 'em, too."

Ruthy smiled, stepped forward and gave the ailing man a brief hug. "Thank you Corban, you're a true friend."

He returned it weakly, smiling. "You just keep livin' right, miss, I'll be here if you ever need help."

"Thanks again, Corban! Goodbye." She turned and hurried from the shop, giving a passing farewell to Ginnis as he counted through lists of goods. Outside she jogged into the crowds and made for the Aircab terminal, finally with hope that she would find her age old friend. Her plight became all the more desperate, her friends and family missing and troubled. She prayed silently that Gerick could explain everything to her once he was found.

* * *

**_The Author Speaks!_**

Again, chuggling along as usual. This chapter really starts defining the individual tasks that our heroes will end up working against, so expect subplots to criss and cross with one another. Look hard enough and you might see a common thread of the main story in there as well. I'll also start mirroring these chapter updates on my badly outdated website next update, so if this place ever goes on the fritz, you can keep up with me there. Papermadness dot com, so you know.

And **J.L. Dexter**, I'm neither drunk nor crazy when I imbibe, just very very very talkative.


	8. Chapter four, Many Words

This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, many of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! _Remember, Italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events._

Enjoy...

* * *

:A Moment of Discord: 

Chapter Four: Many Words

The great forges in the foundry hissed and spat with molten steel, cranes and chains and mechanical equipment roaring with movement. Heat shimmered in the air, waves of it pouring across the brows of the workers and anyone close by. Even in his office, rather, his parent's office, the sounds and heat were present through the stone walls. He wiped his forehead, pausing again in his tasks to rest on his limbs. The stress of this project, of everything that happened in the last week, seemed enough to break his spirit and cause him to collapse. He growled, sitting upright and forcing quill to inkwell to paper. There was a time to brood, a time to labor, and now it was time for words.

"Palamdir, I know this is a troubling thing to read, and by no normal circumstance would I ask so much of you. You must understand, my presence here is necessary to keep this project on time. I cannot and will not contemplate the risk of this Airship being delayed at any time, even if it is for a wicked purpose. I dare not risk the wrath of Oberon, he is too seeded in his madness to chance a rescue of my wife and children."

Gordan paused again, gritting his teeth and forcing tears back. He had to be strong, had to put aside his pain for the project. There would be time to weep, time aplenty to cry and let fear overwhelm his heart when this was all over. For now, there was no choice but to follow this path given to him.

"I need you, as much as you yourself are busy with family and business, to keep an occasional eye on my manor. Give the letters within this parchment to my head servants and chief of the guard, they can care for the upkeep of the house. If anyone comes to the manor to meet with me, inform them that I am on a sabbatical to visit with family in Treno. If any personal friends come, send them here if they desire as quickly as you can arrange it. I will pay for any expenses you incur in that act."

"I am sorry that I must demand so much from you, but I know you will understand that these are exceptional times. I wish you godspeed, my friend, and good health."

"Sincerely, Gordan Fulmen."

> > >

The manor, for all intents, was merely a large single-story structure that was spread across a large plot of land surrounded by wrought iron fencing. Fruit bearing trees stood in neat rows and columns inside, gardeners pruning the branches and collecting the ripe oranges and lemons. A cobblestone path led to the front of the manor, a great circular roundabout with a fountain at the middle. Water poured from several spouts, lending a backdrop of splashing water not unlike the coast and the rocky shores. Mackenzie, in the brief time he had to admire this, was impressed with the appearance of the grounds. Whereas others would invest in ornaments and displays of wealth, this Duke seemed content to invest in goods with a purpose other than appearance. It was very utilitarian, everything there for a reason.

"Okay, we're here." Hawina announced, dismounting from his steed. The other soldiers did the same, one calling for stablehands to lead the beasts away. Macky observed them with an ounce of caution, the Captain's word still plain in his memory. It was he, Fedrich and his four fellow knights and six guards from Lindblum, alone in a city that was through with playing nice to the Regent. An ambush wasn't out of the question.

"The Duke's in the back, so if you'll come this way..." Hawina paused a moment, then looked back as all the escorts from Lindblum approached. "Hey now, we don't need all of you here."

"I would prefer to have my men with me." Macky insisted.

"Well, a man doesn't need a bloody army to follow him 'round. Just get two of your finest and the rest can wait."

The Inquisitor sighed. "If you insist. Fedrich, Sergeant, you're with me." He glanced back at the other knights. "The rest of you take a little walk around town."

"Right then, let's go."

Hawina led them inside the manor through a large door, entering into a great central hall. The simple and functional appearance remained consistent, only a comfortable number of stuffed chairs and couches for guests on thick carpets. Large windows allowed in plentiful sunlight, the walls a sandy tan with large oil paintings hanging in-between. Doors on either side led to the wings of the manor, the center merely a large area for guests and parties. The rear of the manor was almost solid glass, offering a splendid view of the great Euronus plains. On the deck outside sat the Duke, his robust figure resting on a wood chair with others sharing his company. Macky wondered if he would use the pleading eyes of his family to press his worries onto his heart rather than his mind.

"I don't need to remind you to mind yer manners around the Duke." Hawina looked at Fedrich and the Lindblum Sergeant. "I'll be close by, so don't get keen with any ideas."

"We wouldn't dream of it." Macky said off hand, walking toward a door in the glass barrier.

The Captain opened the door for the Inquisitor, alerting the Duke to his guests. He stood to an impressive height, dressed in modest clothing for someone of noble standing. Most noticeable was a cascade of curly, sun bleached hair resting to his shoulders and a sharply defined face. Appearance alone made him intimidating to those who hadn't seen him. His eyes bore into Macky's, impressing an obvious dislike of his presence at the call of the Regent.

"Good afternoon, Duke Jon Peradin." Macky offered a hand, which the Duke took in a firm grip. "The Regent is glad that you are willing to talk of these problems we have rather than ignore us."

"Don't suspect that I do this out of kindness, but rather of necessity. I will not subjugate my citizens to a fight if one can be avoided." Peradin looked at the Lindblum soldier and Fedrich, his eyes glaring with mistrust. "A demi-human. Has the Regent polluted the mind of the Burmecian King as well?"

Fedrich nearly snapped a word, but Macky held up a hand to forestall any rude comments. "King Hiryuu sent his finest Dragon Knights as a sign of good faith, nothing more. Don't read into it too much, there's nothing to find."

"Hn." The Duke curled his lips. "As you say. Before we get carried on, I would introduce my wife Ella, my son Harold and my two daughters, Nilaya and Nasca."

Macky bowed formally. "A pleasure to meet with you, madams and gentleman. I'm Mackenzie Terrace, Inquisitor under the Regent Cid Fabool."

"Have a seat." Jon motioned to a chair, sitting in his own and steepling his fingers. "Are there any other pleasantries you wish to dispense?"

"None." Macky folded his hands together, assuming a comfortable position. His two protectors stood at attention next to his chair. "I prefer business before pleasure."

"Then speak."

"Alright." Macky collected his thoughts, mentally preparing himself for a battle of wits and intellect. As always, he smirked at the irony that he once prided his physical prowess over his mind, yet now hardly trusted his strength. "You have neglected to send the household taxes to the Regent and openly deny any goods to be sent to Lindblum. Why?"

"Because the Regency is a throne built upon the blood of innocent men and women, and it's laws crafted from a dictator who has no right to rule over this land. My father's lineage, my blood and family, are the only ones who have the right to rule these shores."

"Yet you lost the fight during the Mist Wars."

"And that has relevance to me how? Just because someone enters your home and declares it under the ownership of someone else doesn't mean it is true. My father lived through the battle, ruled many years afterwards. Does the Regent have a blood claim to this land? Did he, in all his arrogance, bother to remove this seat of power in place of his own? If this truly is a land under the rule of the Regent, why leave the previous rulers behind?"

"The Regent Cid VIII wasn't concerned with how a city is ruled. You were _conquered_, Duke, and lost any right to call this land your own on that day. Your bearing as a Duke or nobleman doesn't effect this fact."

"I say it does."

"How?"

"The very meaning of Duke is one who rules over a given territory of land. That I retain the title of Duke, that the _Regent himself _still recognizes me with that same title, can only mean that this land is my property. As such, I have every right to do with it as I please, such as refuse to trade its goods or pay tax on the houses therein."

Macky let a moment pass, mentally checking a point to the Duke's favor. Obviously the man was well educated, but still chose to warp history and his own actions to his benefit. Now it was time to understand why he chose to halt payment of taxes, why now when he had years to do so. "I ask, then, why? Why now?"

"It was difficult to in the past, Inquisitor. Only now, with my city freed of the accursed Mist and thriving, can I safely separate myself from the Regent's illegal hold."

"Surely nothing to do with the more violent protests in the southeast?"

"Mere coincidence."

"Then why are their raiding vessels in your docks?"

The Duke hesitated only a moment. "They can trade with me as they like."

"I noticed those ships are from the Northern Continent, home to vicious raiders and pirate clans. I don't believe you are foolish enough to allow them into your harbor for mere trade. Raiders like them only listen to the sound of coins, and the large sums you profess to have would tempt them to enlist for your use."

"I have them here for trade, Inquisitor. Can you prove me wrong?"

"Not at the moment, but a simple trip to the shore would answer that. Even for trade, the northern seas are a long distance away. Somehow I think trading wouldn't be enough to motivate them to come."

The Duke remained silent, brows furrowed. Macky let a grin cross his lips, balancing the score. It was obvious to anyone that these northern hirelings were only capable of fighting and pillaging. To trade with them, if ever they were motivated to, would be with blood money. No Duke would allow such a blight to stain his economy.

"Unorthodox trading partners don't concern me, Duke." Macky reached into the thick pocket of his coat, drawing a bound scroll of several papers. He offered them to the Duke, and he accepted them reluctantly. "For now, my only reason for being here is to negotiate this tax. These parchments have in full detail the words from our Regent. Your father and you paid these taxes without complaint for decades, to suddenly oppose it on the basis of ownership is a difficult claim to make."

"I will not debate the truth with you, Inquisitor."

Macky stood, smoothing his coat and pants. "You needn't debate it at all. I can return to Lindblum with your refusal as easily as an agreement. Whether you want to involve yourself in more _dangerous_ situations is up to you. Fedrich, Sergeant, we're done here."

"You won't convince me of this fallacy, Mackenzie." Peradin reiterated, standing as well.

"That is your choice to make, Jon." The Inquisitor bowed again. "My thanks for welcoming us to your home, Duke Peradin, Madam Ella. I will return tomorrow at this time to see if you think any differently of the tax."

With that, Macky turned and followed the lead of the Captain, his two guards on either side. He let the tension slide away from his mind, confidant he had rattled the solid plans of the Duke to merely brush aside any intrusion on his claim to the land. Already he was certain these talks would amount to nothing gained. However, as he prodded and poked the Duke's many actions, he would gain an understanding of his intents. Perhaps the raiders were there for trade, perhaps for a building of men to oppose the Regent's battalions.

_'Feh, for all the manpower a person can wield, it's nothing to the Viltgances. Even if we only have four in the sky, that's more than anyone else can boast of. Let him rebel, I'll laugh when his men try to fight against an untouchable warship.'_

> > >

Hawina watched the Inquisitor and his escort left the premises, passing into the street of the city without incident. He sighed in relief, wondering if this meeting for negotiations was a farce to cover an attempt to kill the Duke. The man, Mackenzie, seemed sure of his ability to reason with the nobleman. Had it been a cover to kill him, they would not have spared a person who seemed a valuable tool to the Regency, nor have involved knights from another nation. The presence of Dragon Knights was a genuine surprise for the Captain, he had only anticipated the armored guards typical of the Grand Castle to be here.

"So he's the one we're to kill, eh?" A guttural man spoke at his side.

Hawina glanced back to see who it was, recognizing the fellow Captain of the raiding vessels at dock. He frowned, disliking the brutish manners of the northerner. He was of deeply tanned skin, hair like black ropes on his head and a voice slurred with accent, all markers of a foreigner to the Mist Continent.

"That he is." Hawina replied.

"He looks like a twig 'ta me."

"His men aren't to be ignored, Captain, they'll get ugly if you move on 'em."

The northerner laughed, slapping his side. "They look ugly right now! What kinda men're covered in fuzz?"

"Burmecians, Captain. They're much stronger than they look."

"Heh, we'll see." He turned and walked away, heading for the smaller doors to the manor's kitchen.

"Tantars!" Hawina called.

The northerner looked back.

"Don't attack them 'less I give the orders to, you hear me?"

"I hear you." Tantars replied, passing through the door and out of sight.

Hawina grumbled, also distrusting of the raider Captain. As Mackenzie said, they were cutthroats who did anything for large sums of gil. He argued with the Duke long before they came, hoping to at least seek mercenaries from their own lands. These people, northerners who cared not for the laws of civilized society, would be a dagger at their neck as sharp as the one held by the Regent's speaker. He snorted in frustration, then walked for the armory to put in orders. The next days would be a trying time for them all.

> > >

Fedrich looked around them as they walked down the street leading away from the Manor, admiring the careful attention put onto the ornaments of the homes. Each house seemed a unique picture of the family that lived within, some covered in shells and others with old driftwood. Somehow he felt like he didn't belong in such a personal neighborhood, a figure alien to the populace. The other Burmecians and Lindblum soldiers looked equally as foreign, standing at the edge of an intersection and observing the people.

"Hey there, Mister Castor...I mean Sir Castor, Sir!" Eria waved as she shouted, hesitating only a moment at her slip in formality. She approached them with a grin on her face, apparently unaffected by the looks of the people as they glared. "So how did it go?"

"Well enough, miss Waterfang." Macky let a smug grin spread across his face. "The Duke thinks he has everything under control...ha! I broke that idea down first thing. He'll give in if he wants this to go smoothly."

Her smile stayed, but her expression showed little interest in the words. Her questions seemed asked only for the sake of making words. "Does he look dangerous, Sir Castor?"

"Not really." Fedrich replied. "And you can call me by my name, Eria. I don't like formalities much."

"Oh! Alrighty then, Fedrich."

Diamante stepped forward, looking serious as ever. He had one ear cocked to the size, fingers close enough to the lance at his back to show he wasn't willing to let his guard down. Fedrich didn't blame him. The entire city was poised to be the center of a tax revolt, and being allied with the Regent was a risky thing to do. "So what are your impressions about this Duke's intent?"

"He sounds serious about this. Apparently he has raiding ships from the north in his docks."

"Raiders?" Diamante repeated the word as if it wasn't believable. "Here?"

"Yes. The Duke claims they are here to trade, but I don't believe that for a second. He must have hired them to give him an edge in a fight."

"That would make sense. I haven't seen a lick of normal men on patrol at all, and the people look pretty meek to take up arms and do battle. Any estimate on their numbers?"

Fedrich shook his head. "Could be a few dozen, maybe hundreds."

"I saw at least ten northern vessels at dock." Macky grunted. "Those ships can hold a hundred men easy. We could be looking at _thousands_ if they're bringing everyone who can lift a blade."

That statement made sober the soldiers and knights, Macky deep in thought. "We need to go down there and see what we're facing."

"But what if those raiders..."

Fedrich glanced at Eria, the girl showing her fears across her face. A warrior and knight in training she was, but was also a woman and still in her growing years. Such words he wouldn't tolerate from someone of his own age, but hers were founded on an already emotional standing. The unspoken question wasn't something he could hold against her.

"Don't think about it." He replied calmly, looking her in the eyes. "We're knights of Burmecia, trained to fight any enemy. What can pirates and seamen do against the Dragon Knights, elite of the elite?"

"Not a damn thing!" Diamante added, looking his students firmly. "You have every right to be scared, but I won't have you panic when it comes down to swords! You'll fight...honor as a Dragon Knight comes before everything, fear of death and pain or any horror of society's wicked mind! Do you understand?"

"Yessir!" The three trainees shouted.

"Right." He looked to Fedrich. "Well then, Mister Castor, what shall we do?"

Fedrich looked at the sky, seeing the blue shifting to orange and red as the sun fell towards the sea. It wasn't very late, but he felt a certain amount of fatigue pulling at his limbs. The thought of his duties would ensure a difficult number of days ahead. "We'll break for supper and get our rooms. Sleep will be a rarity come tomorrow."

Everyone silently agreed, following the Dragon Knight as he made for their Inn.

Said Inn was reputable enough, bearing rooms for them all on the third of four levels. The keeper didn't seem keen on letting soldiers of the Regent stay, but accepted them grudgingly at the reason of additional coins in hand. Arrangements made for the knights on one end, soldiers on the other with Macky in the center. Caution again made the choice, any potential ne'er do well having to sneak by easily woken men at arms to get to the Inquisitor. Macky wasn't worried, putting faith on a population that wouldn't do anything so outrageous while under the eye of the Regent. Regardless, Fedrich placed one of the Lindblum soldiers in his room as protection from the few who might dare that risk.

The bulk of their material at rest, they separated for evening meals, seeking out familiar dishes and smells. Again they encountered that look of distrust, but were served with forced courtesy. It seemed the people were content to merely glare, dark thoughts crossing their minds but unfulfilled. Fedrich returned some of those stares with his own jade eyes, always winning the contest of dueling wills. It occurred to him that this must be the same thing that Ruthy felt in Burmecia, eyes searing and branding her an outsider. In his own heart he understood her troubles a little better.

The evening sky took a deep purple hue, and the people of Coral Cove began the process of rolling in their shops and goods, preparing for the night. Fedrich was close to turning in when a knock at his private room door startled him. He moved to call out the guest's intent when the door opened, Winston slipping inside with little care to announce himself.

"Can I help you?" Fedrich asked, unsure as to why the unruly youth would come to him at nightfall.

"I did some looking." Winston began, crossing his arms and standing at the doorway. His expression seemed serious, lacking the arrogance and cocky glares common to his face. For a moment you could mistake the teen for someone years older, bearing burdens years heavier. "The docks are crawling with pirates."

Fedrich's expression turned serious as well. "How many?"

"Seventeen ships, all state of the line. Professional work for raiders."

"You think it means something?"

"Duke Peradin is known for his work in the north. Maybe his charity comes at a price, like brigands to man those ships."

Fedrich considered the idea. He didn't profess to have much knowledge of the Duke's workings, but this rang perfectly with his type of lifestyle. Invest in things that will bear a greater return in the end, something everyone will benefit from, something simple and uncomplicated. Building ships in return for their loyalty. This had the markings of a revolution in full.

"You're sure of that number?"

"I counted them as I walked." The youth repeated. "Thousands of them at the least. I thought you should know..."

"Dammit." Fedrich swore, mentally considering how to combat those odds. Even skill had a limit, not when it couldn't stop even a child from plunging a knife into their exhausted bodies.

"Well?" Winston prodded.

"...I'll keep it in mind."

"Alright." Winston turned and opened the door, pausing a moment in the doorjamb. He looked back with that sneer he bore when the two first met. "So she's really your mate, is she?"

"Huh? You mean Ruthy?"

"Of course."

Fedrich looked him in the eye. "Yes she is. I love her, Winston, even if she is human."

"...Sick."

"Why?" Fedrich snapped. "What's wrong with love between two sentient beings?"

"Because she's _human_, you fool!" He growled back. "I don't understand it, and I don't want to. You do whatever you like, but know this; I don't like it. I will never approve of it, and never will approve of you. I'll follow orders, but nothing more."

Winston closed the door, cutting off any argument Fedrich could start to defend himself. The silence left was deafening, clouding his mind. He shivered, then sat heavily on the mattress of his bed. The knowledge of thousands of enemies in the very streets he tread was scary. However, he felt a pit in his soul even deeper from the fear and anger within that young Burmecian's words. What to fear more, he considered, the enemy without, or the enemy within?

* * *

**_The Author Speaks!_**

And now you see that negotiations aren't exactly the only thing that's on the mind of our dear hero. What's a person to do when you're surrounded by thousands of faceless enemies and troubled by your own allies? Hopefully I'll be able to give some more splotlight time to the three students working alongside Fedrich and Diamante, as they've been little more than extra names to remember. Trust me, they'll be valued allies in the long run, albeit maybe not pleasent to be around.


	9. Chapter five, The Intended Course

This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, many of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! _Remember, Italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events._

Enjoy...

* * *

:A Moment of Discord: 

Chapter Five: The Intended Course

Dawn, muted by the mist of the ocean, came without incident and without fanfare. People rose from slumber and went to work, starting another day. The tide let out, and the fishing ships went to sea. The clatter of humanity slowly built back to the usual overture of a bustling port town on the plains.

Fedrich didn't wake with the sun.

After a restless sleep, he cracked open an eye to see the streets illuminated by the late morning light. Rising with a grumble, he lifted an arm and fidgeted with his jacket to find his timepiece. Attaining said watch, he glanced the hands to see it was close to nine 'o clock.

"Grahh..." He mumbled, shuffling out of bed and donning his uniform. There was nothing he disliked more than sleeping late and wasting the daylight hours. In Burmecia, the darkness of night was just that, a literal absence of light save the illumination of lamps in windows and the occasional post. People went inside to unwind only because they couldn't see their own faces at night. Even with more sleep, he still felt tired, dreams barring him from a deep rest.

Tying the final length of leather about his ankle, securing his glaive to his shoulder, he left his private room to check on the others. None of his comrades were around and neither was Eria. Macky was out and so were his soldiers.

"Damn." He wondered if they had left him at the Inn and were already at work.

He quickly went down the stairs and looked around the greatroom of the Inn, tables occupied with travelers breaking fast and talking quietly. None of his men were there either, further worrying Fedrich. What kind of an impression would he make if the others had tried to wake him and failed? Stepping around the tables, he went to the entrance and pulled the door open. Before he could stop, he collided with another body and nearly lost his balance. The apology died on his lips when he saw Winston glaring at him, a hand curled into a fist at his side.

"S'bout time you woke." The burly youth snorted.

"My apologies. I didn't sleep well." Fedrich answered, seeing everyone present and accounted for.

"You too?"

Fedrich looked at the speaker, seeing Perce becoming obviously embarrassed to have spoken. He shook his head lightly. "No...no, it's nothing. Never mind."

Fedrich watched the spindly youth regain his composure, recalling exactly what made him stand out among the others. Diamante, in a off the cuff moment, declared the kid was a mystic and believed wholeheartedly in the lore about Burmecia and its ancient connections with dragons. They believed that dragons once were as powerful as gods, protectors of the burman people. However, when a great war came to the land and threatened to overwhelm all the burman cities, the dragons sacrificed their powers and granted them to their wards. This is how burmans gained the ability to wield dragon magics. Current believers thought that with the proper study, one could communicate with dragons and attain in full their godly powers.

Perce, being physically weaker than the others, had honed his spiritual prowess and was very learned in dragon magic among others. As such, Fedrich understood his cryptic nature and paid little heed to his gestures of higher powers at work. He didn't believe in such stories.

"So what's our plan for this cheery morn?" Diamante asked his partner in leadership.

"Well, Macky has to meet with the Duke this afternoon, for one."

"Don't fret." Macky interjected with a grin. "I'll just take my boys with me this time. Since technically I'm higher in rank than you, I can give proper orders. Go to the docks and get a feel for what's up. I want to know if the Duke's really stupid enough to have pirates trade in his city."

"Sure."

"Don't let your guard down, Fedrich." Macky gave his companion a stern look. "Mercenaries don't need an excuse to go after people, it's in their blood. If you think something's off, get out and find me."

"But what-"

"Trust me. It'd be all the better if you stormed in with proof the scum attacked you."

Fedrich considered the tactic. It would be tough for the Duke to dismiss such an action as coincidence. "Alright."

"Good. See you this evening." Macky turned and began walking to the manor, his six men at arms on his flanks with hammers shouldered and ready.

Fedrich looked over his own command, the student and teacher waiting for his order. "Right. Let's go."

They began the long walk towards the docks, weapons secure on their persons but within easy reach. The people gave them room as they walked down the busy avenue, keeping distant and not wanting any trouble. This thought was shared by both sides.

> > >

Flaure brought the sword down with lethal intent, metal flashing in the morning sun, and stopped as it came close to the grassy earth of the courtyard. Bringing her right foot back and lifting the blade to point upwards in a common pose, she took a breath and exhaled it. Lifting the sword up and stepping her foot forward, the sword followed the same arc with precise, mechanical movement. Flaure stepped back and took a breath.

"...One hundred fifty." She whispered, not breaking the rhythm of her morning practice.

The blade flickered in the sunlight as it cut through air.

_'This is the art of victory. This is the talent that brings success to any endeavor. Strength of the body will aid the strength of the soul, the power of faith. If the body is not strong, nothing good can come of it.'_

Slash...

_'The sword is an extension of your body. No amount of workmanship can overcome a frail owner. Become strong, and the sword will reflect this strength. Have faith, and the sword shall emanate that faith in your goals. Let your body sing the glories of war and the sword shall be your instrument of conquest.'_

Slash...

_'To achieve purity you must have faith beyond faith. You must trust your spirit and heart, follow the path towards righteousness and never waver. Strength of the body means strength of the mind and strength of the soul. As your body grows in power, so shall your-'_

Thump.

Flaure's mantras ceased, her concentration broke as her sixth sense tickled the back of her consciousness. It was only a moment, but enough to disturb the flow of her arms. The tip of her sword had pierced the soft earth, buried beneath tender green grass. Paused in the end of the rhythm, she looked to where her sense felt danger to her life. On the crushed stone walkways of the garden were two young boys chasing one another along the paths and inspecting the wild varieties of flowers. Close to them was their mother, sitting on an stone bench and watching over them.

Illis Fulmen, wife to Gordan. That was where the sense had plied a risk of bodily harm from.

_'This woman is...?'_

Flaure drew her blade up from the ground, taking a rag from her belt and wiping it down before sheathing it at her waist. Her skin glistened from the effort of her training, and she wiped her forehead slowly to clear her vision. She looked long at the woman, her figure slim and well fit beneath a white dress and maroon bodice. Ruddy hair was kept neatly behind her ears, the length falling to her waist.

_'Illis Fulmen. She doesn't look at all a danger to me...barely able to wield a sword by her appearance. Her only concerns lie in the care of her sons. Perhaps her motherly concern for them sparked it...'_

Illis glanced her way, and Flaure met her red gaze with a neutral gaze. Her lips drew up to a frown, but nothing came of her glare save the anger of being held captive. Flaure was satisfied, breaking the stare and going inside for her chambers and a warm bath. The woman was defiant, yes, but that wasn't enough to be a threat to anyone's life, least of all her own.

Inside Flaure took a moment to smooth her blouse out, the soft cloth wrinkled from the exertion of her study. Reaching with a hand, she freed her hair from the knotted tie to let it fall freely to her shoulders. She took a deep breath, holding it a moment then exhaling and letting her muscles relax. She didn't pay attention to her sore muscles or feet. Practice, years of it that continuously pushed her body to endure longer than before, made her used to the strain. While not the strongest of warriors, she was the leanest and most lasting of any she fought.

_'Time is the enemy that all things fall prey to, that even mountains may crumble beneath. To endure, to last against any torment or withering pain, is the only thing one can truly do in this world. Applied to the art of the sword, this brings new meaning. Of all the things I teach you, remember always that the greatest strength of a warrior is to _endure 

Satisfied, Flaure continued down the sunlit hall for the stairs to the upper floor and her suite.

"Why hello, my lady." A sensual voice announced from a door ahead of her.

Flaure didn't need to give it thought to know who it was. Standing in the doorjam with feminine qualities was the resident mage, Brant Aquas. She passed him by, not bothering to respond to his words. His presence was a nuisance, his carefree attitude even more so.

"Might I have a moment, milady?" He asked, falling behind her.

Again silence was her response.

"Milady?"

Flaure curled her lips, wondering why the man was so insistent this morning. A hand grabbed her shoulder and wrenched her about, stopping her dead in the hall. Flaure looked sharply at the mage, her anger meeting an equally withering stare from him. The look startled her a moment, but she pinned such worry beneath and kept her neutral mask in place.

"I need a moment of your time, _Flaure_." He insisted, grip tight on her arm.

Brant looked, for once, dangerous. Flaure had to admire that the delicate features of his appearance so proudly enhanced this expression. His casual work for them had always been with an easy going smile and jest, even while drunk. Now he looked serious, focused on a task. This was how a man with the power to decimate a battalion in one spell should look.

"What?" She growled.

"Do you fear me?" He asked quietly.

Flaure narrowed her eyes. "Not in the least."

He pulled her closer, faces inches apart, and took her shoulders in both hands. "Then what _do_ you think of me?"

She balled her hands together, allowing him this much freedom to question her. If he made a tiny instance more of control, she would force him back, teach him again the chain of command. "That you are an idiot who doesn't know a thing about using his strength properly. A fool."

He grinned, yet the expression held none of his jovial emotions. "You mistake me for yourself, Flaure."

"You dare-"

He leaned in closer, and Flaure's argument was trapped as his lips pressed against her own, a hand caressing the back of her head. Her control slipped a second, fear and panic stunning her limbs. _'He is...kissing me?'_ Control returned as quickly as it left, and she shoved him back without restraint. Hand flew to hilt, and the sword rang out of the scabbard and lashed at the man. He danced back and avoided a cut to his stomach, holding up his hands in peace. She hesitated to hear what words he would spout to explain himself.

"You're quite lovely, my lady Flaure. Naive, but that's a plus to me." He grinned lewdly, eyes sparkling with his trademark humor.

"Get out." Flaure could kill him, no mental thought would argue his defense now. The only thing restraining her arms was that her father needed this man, that the plan somehow depended on this wily mage. He was a bother before, but now his very presence made her ill. Her arms trembled, rage bubbling over her composed expression. "Get _OUT_!"

"By your leave, milady." He turned and hurried down the hallway, passing through a door and disappearing from view.

Flaure stood still for several seconds, arms shaking and her sword wavering. Taking great care to reign in her anger and her mind screaming for his blood, she sheathed the sword and took a deep breath. Stumbling, she fell against a wall and slid down, sitting with her legs propped up. She hugged her knees, defenses cracking and all her fears spilling out. He had kissed her! He had broken every formal law and defied her personal space, her lips, her body. Worst of all, he had trapped her and made her weak, pierced her every defense without error, even her infallible sixth sense. He made her a _victim_ of his crime of lust.

**_...you mistake me for yourself..._**

She quaked in fear, gritting her teeth at the mere memory of that statement.

_'I'm nothing like him! Nothing! I'm sane, I'm normal! I'm Flaure Highguard, Purity Knight of the Nanten! I'm nothing like that madman! I'm not! I'm not like him...'_

Flaure sat there for a long while, muttering to herself, afraid.

> > >

Ruthy was anxious as she followed the Captain down the quiet streets along the upper streets of Lindblum, aware that the surroundings weren't of the best standing. All the buildings where of a uniform appearance, but they weren't as kept as the homes below. Windows were closed and shades drawn, doors reinforced with iron straps or wood bars. The people seemed less eager to be in public, dressed in humble clothes and walking hurriedly. She kept her eyes focused on the street ahead, but sometimes stared whenever an eyesore presented itself.

"Why would Gerick be living here?" Ruthy asked her escort.

"I dunno, miss. He's been odd ever since he left the Regulators."

"Do you know what happened?"

The Captain shook his head. "He was doin' just fine until one day. He came to me and said he was quittin' and needed a good man to fill in. I sent Setter and he's done fine. He never told me why."

"Oh..."

"Odd thing is...the man's still got the same fire, same attitude. It's just every time I ask him why he quit, he goes all silent on me." The Captain snorted in frustration. "Somethin' happened out there, Ruthy, somethin' _bad_."

Ruthy frowned lightly, wondering what could have changed her friend so much so quickly. He was a stubborn man, tough like leather and rocks. She worked alongside him for years, and the fights never pushed him over the edge. Even his limp didn't bother him, neither did all his aches and pains. The only thing she recalled him complaining of was getting a little gray in the beard.

_'He is forty five after all. Getting gray is just part of life...'_

"So why all this worry about the old man? He knew you were comin', right?"

Ruthy shook her head. "No, I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Well, he'll be surprised for sure now. He rarely shows up at the armory, an' his friends all say he just keeps at home. Maybe you'll be able to shake him outta this funk he's in."

"I hope so."

The Captain turned and walked up a narrow stairwell, Ruthy just behind. It led to the second floor of a tall home. It ended at a tiny porch occupied by a single wood chair and a door.

"Here he is." The Captain frowned and leaned close to Ruthy. "One of my boys let the guy keep here since he left the Hall."

"Okay."

"You need me to stay here and walk you back?" He asked.

"I'll be okay, Cecil, thanks for showing me."

He grinned and began down the stairs, waving his farewell.

Ruthy stood by the door, wondering what to expect from her old friend. He was always fiercely independent and never wanted others to worry themselves about his problems. He ended up with more wounds and scars than necessary from that attitude. It struck her that she really hadn't seen him in close to four years. They only exchanged letters, and you could lie on paper easier than in person.

She lifted a hand to knock, but hesitated.

_'It's just old Gerick, not a stranger. I don't need to be afraid of him...'_ She considered that, finding a source of her worry. _'Maybe I'm afraid of what he's become, of how he changed...'_

She knocked five times, then stood with her hands fidgeting and her heart racing. Would he be glad? Angry? Sad?

The door creaked open, and Gerick spoke. "Yes?"

Ruthy was stunned at the change in him. He wore simple pants and a faded white shirt, leather belt pinning his pants against his paunch. His arms were thinner, hands no longer curled from carrying his battle hammer. He had his hair combed back, and his beard _was_ peppered with gray lines. Worst was his face, lined with worry and age, eyes dull and without the luster he had as leader of the Regulators.

"Gerick..." She faltered, trying to get the words out.

"...Ruth? Ruthy? Is that really you?"

Ruthy laughed and took the old man in a bear hug. "It's so good to see you!"

The man returned the embrace with his familiar crushing strength, a chuckle at his throat. "Heaven and hell, child, what're you doin' here?"

"I came here to see you, old man!" She drew back, smiling wide and happy to finally have found a friend.

"Well, come inside." He stepped and motioned her in.

The interior of his rented home was modest, the frontroom occupied by a large table and chairs, plus a stuffed couch by the windows exposing a grand view of the Great Wall. A cabinet held his battle hammer along with other arms and armor, and next to it was a wash basin and counter littered with cups and a great pot that smelled of coffee. Ruthy was glad he still had the same vices as before.

"Some coffee?" He asked.

"Sure."

He picked up two mugs and poured the thick brew, motioning to the table and sitting. They took sips, the coffee almost as thick as mud and packing a bitter punch. It was just like before, always strong, always warm.

"You're lookin' good. Pale, though. You getting enough sun up there?"

"Whenever it shines, I'm there." She smirked. "You look well."

"Except my beard. The thing's gone traitorous on me!"

"It makes you look distinguished."

"Feh, more like old." He groused.

They remained silent a moment, the ticking of a clock marking off seconds as they passed. Ruthy looked up, seeing the same old clock pinned above his door; yet another thing that remained the same in his life.

"So, what brings you 'ere?"

"I came to visit, Gerick, isn't that reason enough?" She asked. "I've spent two days looking for you."

"Oh?"

"Yes." She leaned on the table, hands wrapped about the ceramic mug. "Fedrich was given an assignment to work with the Regent, so I came with him. I haven't been able to find my sister or Gordan, and I don't remember where Macky lives. I tried to find you and it was like you disappeared! I've been worried, Gerick! Why didn't you tell me you quit the Regulators?"

Gerick's expression shifted, and he slouched in his chair. "I didn't want 'ta worry you."

"Well, I'm am! You don't need to lie to me, or anyone for that matter. If something's wrong you need to tell us. Don't you ever talk with them?" She sat up in shock. "Oh, have you seen my sister? Or Gordan? Do you know where they are?"

"No, I 'aven't seen them in a long while."

"Why not?"

"We've all been busy, Ruthy. Gordan's got his business to run an' Illis has her kids 'ta raise."

Ruthy felt sad at that, sad that the close knit friends she knew as she left Lindblum had fallen apart. It was a tough reminder among others that time wasn't so forgiving, that people grew apart and moved on. She had done the same, in part. Her heart didn't ache with emotions, and that was proof enough. "So none of us are together, huh?"

"Us?" He repeated. "What 'us'? You 'n Fedrich both live up north, Gordan and Illis live in their manor up in the Industrial sector and Macky's just another man for the Regent. 'Us' fell apart a long while ago, Ruthy."

Ruthy shared the same sadness on that truth. She missed her sister and friends, their daily routines and talks. She grew older, though, and followed her heart and moved on. She had new things to enjoy, some new friends and places. She would always cherish her time here. "So why did you quit?"

"I wasn't doin' as good as I could. I hired new kids and taught 'em the ropes, showed 'em what to do. They do good, Ruthy, better than we did! I guess living through that war left us all a little harder, a little more used 'ta taking up arms and fightin'."

"You quit because you weren't good enough? You're the best of us! You fought against any odds, could beat any enemy you faced. What makes you think you aren't good enough?"

"Them...the new kids."

"Huh?"

"They...oh God, Ruthy, they're right! I'm too old to go runnin' around with kids and hope 'ta keep up. All I did was slow 'em down on the field. They run circles around the monsters, Ruth, they 'aven't been beat!"

"So did they..."

"No, I could tell they didn't like me." He sighed, staring at his coffee. "All I could do is show 'em what to do, where to go. Once they got 'hold of the rules, they just _flew_. I left, gave Setter the lead. He's a good man, a little soft on 'em, but he knows how 'ta command."

"What do you do now?" She asked.

Gerick sighed again. "Nothing...I don't know what to do."

Ruthy was surprised at his admissions. He was always oriented about his work, doing all he could to make sure he was ready for the patrols. He was a man who lived for his job, lived for the joy of the hunt and knowing he was doing something to improve the world. Killing monsters was just a small thing, but maybe he would see that they kept away from Lindblum. Even if all he did was keep their numbers in check, he was glad to do that.

But now he wasn't hunting monsters. He was just here, unable to keep up with the younger generation. What would he focus his daily attention on now? In the end, what else did he know aside from the patrols and fighting? Ruthy felt an understanding of his situation.

"You hungry?" He asked suddenly.

"Wha...um, sort of."

"I'll treat you 'ta lunch."

"I don't-"

"I ain't poor!" He declared, standing and pulling out a jacket from his rack of arms. It looked like the same one he wore when she was still working with him. "You've been all 'round this place for days lookin' fer me. It's the least I can do for 'ya, kiddo."

Ruthy wasn't quite sure if she should agree to do. It obviously was something to distract her from the questions he didn't want to answer, but she _was_ hungry. If he needed time to open up, she decided, then she would give it to him. It wasn't like she had any other alternative.

"...Alright."

> > >

Macky again admired the sand colored walls of the Peradin manor. He looked at one of the large oil painting and recognized the Duke's face. Apparently he wasn't so modest as to not have some luxury about him. Said Duke was resting on a chair, one hand holding a wineglass and another pinning a thick tome open on his knees.

"My Lord, Sir-"

"Have him seated, Captain." Jon ordered.

Hawina motioned to a seat opposite the Duke, and Macky sat down and carefully relaxed his posture. Jon read a bit longer of the book, then set the thread in the spine and closed it. Sipping his wine, he set both it and the book on the table next to him. "Good morning, Mackenzie."

"Good morning to you, Duke Peradin."

"I believe I made myself quite clear yesterday that there is nothing to negotiate here."

"Oh, but there is." Macky leaned forward and folded his hands. "One thousand, Jon. One thousand men _at least_ are with those raiding ships you claim to be here to trade. Unless I'm mistaken, I don't think it takes that many people to haul barrels and goods off a ship, nor so many from the same clan."

"They have much to trade and much to take."

"Such as the lives of men loyal to the Regency?"

Jon sneered. "More like cotton, grain, and wine. The northern lands are truly desolate to everything but the bare necessities to life. It's expected that they would come to trade with us."

"Or steal whatever they can."

"That is hardly my-"

"Concern? They _are_ your concern, especially since they are here on your behest!" Macky stood, lifting his hand to point towards the city. "Out there lie one thousand bloody cutthroats who would sooner kill you and rape this town of it's wealth and women than obey you! Stick to your claim of trade, let's play around that, then. You trade with men who have stolen goods from other people, and that's blood money, Duke. If my men investigate these vessels and find goods reported to have been taken, I can hold you accountable for accepting them as part of a trade under _your authorization_! You did say you willingly accepted them into port, right Jon?"

"They have legitimate money to use-"

"Legitimate!" Macky chuckled. "You believe a thief would pay with his own money? Be serious, you're grasping at straws."

Jon remained quiet at the declaration.

"So they're here to trade with blood money. If you don't wish to negotiate the tax, I can leave today and report this to the Regent as is my duty."

"They aren't-"

"Aren't here to trade?" Macky turned on the Duke with a grim smile. "Oh, so they _are_ here as part of a force to defy the Regent and assault his royal forces."

"That is not what they are here to do!"

"Then which is it? Are they here to trade with blood money and stolen property or here to play part of your little revolution?"

Jon stood, fuming silently as he wound his mind around the corner he was trapped in. Macky grinned and folded his arms, waiting to see which path the Duke would choose. Would he take the lesser punishment or try and bluff his way out of this? Would he admit to this audacity against the Regent? He grinned wider in anticipation of his answer.

"Captain, would you fetch a servant to get my best wine? I feel a thirst in my throat."

Hawina saluted at the order, walking to a door at the eastern wing of the manor. Jon curled his lips and stood still, apparently thinking deeply on what could explain his problem.

"I'm not a patient man, Jon. Which is it?"

Jon rubbed his face. "They are here for trade."

Macky nodded. "They are a tempting partner to trade with, but any man knows the risk is too great. Only a fool or a desperate man would trade blood money with the northern raiders."

"Yes."

A metallic shriek pierced the silence in the manor, and Macky spun about to see what it was. He gaped as his Sergeant stumbled back, an arrow sunk through his breastplate. A thin whistle raced by his ears, and a second met the first and sent the armored soldiers down for good. Macky looked around, seeing the Captain standing by the door to the eastern wing. An archer with a longbow stood in the doorjamb, threading a third arrow and tensing the string. Other doors were opening, revealing soldiers armed for battle. It was a trap, simple and effective.

"Dear me, you've seen through my little guise, Inquisitor." Jon chuckled lightly. "As such as I liked debating with you, it isn't much fun when you know that the advantage lies with the other man."

Macky tensed his shoulders, waiting for someone to attack. "So they are here for battle."

"Not quite."

"Oh? What for, then?"

Jon smiled wide. "Lindblum, Mackenzie, the glittering diamond of the Mist Continent. They are here because I've promised them Lindblum and all the riches they can reap from the Grand Castle."

"A thousand men won't take the castle. Ten thousand couldn't. The Viltgances would grind them to dust!"

The Duke laughed. "You believe that, Mackenzie, and keep believing it. I'll enjoy the expression on your face when you see those flying machines blasted out of the skies!" He laughed, then turned and walked for the outside deck. "Captain Hawina, it is my great pleasure to ask you to throw this man into the basement. Alert the raiders and have them round up the rest of the lot."

"Yessir." The Captain approached Macky with a smug grin.

Macky wasn't sure of what to do. He had no weapon, and even if he did, it had been almost eight years since he lifted one. Despite his want to escape and warn Fedrich, he knew it was too late. He surrendered without contest, knowing when to concede defeat. So long as he was alive he could find a solution to this mess. Provided, of course, it wasn't already beyond solving.


	10. Chapter six, Odds and Ends

This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, many of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! _Remember, Italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events._

Enjoy...

* * *

:A Moment of Discord: 

Chapter Six: Odds and ends

Macky grunted as he fell to the stone ground, arms sore from being dragged away from the central hall of the manor. He stood quickly to turn on his jailers, but the iron bar door slammed shut and clicked with a lock. He grabbed the bars and shook them, hardly able to elict a squeak from them.

"Eh heh. You're foolin' yourself, little man. Those bars will keep you 'ere a long time."

"Let me go and I'll forget you did this."

"Sorry, but orders is orders."

The northerner turned and walked away from the small cell, one of a few in the basement of the manor. His footsteps echoed along the walls, then disappeared as he closed the wood door to the surface. Darkness loomed in the basement, lit only by a tiny window and a few electric torches along the opposite wall. Macky pounded the bars, regretting it as his hands hurt.

"Bastards." He swore. The cell was barren save a rotten wood chair and a bucket for his toilet. Around him were barrels and crates, probably stores of foods in the tough winters months. He tested each iron bar, finding not a single weak one that might bend with the proper force. Taking up the chair, he swung it at the door and succeeded in shattering the wood to splinters and shards. He growled as a piece of wood stuck in his palm. Tugging it out, he winced and sucked at the wound.

"Well, this is just fuckin' great." He sat on the ground, taking a kerchief and tying it badly around his palm. He regretted the rash action. Luck would see that the cut got infected, and he suspected the jailers wouldn't go fetch a healer strictly for a prisoner.

He hoped they at least remembered to give him food and water.

> > >

The streets closest to the docks were the most lively, people filling any empty space with bodies or carts overflowing with goods to sell. The shouting of merchants to gain the attention of a customer was painful to Fedrich's ears, and he wished to see to the pirate's actions and leave quickly. Such noise wasn't going to help his hearing in the long run.

A voice yelled into his ear from close, and Fedrich looked to see who it was. Diamante spoke something again, but Fedrich shook his head to show he hadn't heard. Tugging his sleeve, he pointed up. Fedrich saw a building with a flat roof, and looking back to the elder knight, saw him trying to make a gesture to show the should go up there. He looked around, but saw no open door that led into the home. Diamante shook his head, then waved his arms around him to clear some space. In a heartbeat, he jumped up and landed on the roof. Fedrich grinned, then alerted the students and gave proper motions to do the same.

Up top, the sound was only a slight background noise. Fedrich rubbed his ears.

"How can a man get around in that ruckus?" Diamante asked in a huff. "You'd go deaf in a day!"

"Humans don't have hearing as advanced as ours. They probably don't think it's very loud." Perce replied. "My ears are still ringing."

"Well, now that we can talk, what's there to do?"

"Macky wanted us to check on the raiders, so we will." Fedrich pointed at the docks proper. "It isn't as crowded along the docks. We'll split up and check things out on our own. If you run into any trouble, get on the roofs and try to find me or anyone else. We'll meet at the Inn at noon. Everyone have a watch?"

They nodded.

"Good. Try to be casual. If you think you can, try to hear what the raiders are doing. Don't get on their ships, but just listen in."

"That'll be the day in this din." Winston growled.

"Quit it, boy." Diamante added. "Do as your ordered unless you want to forget about being a Dragon Knight."

"This is part of your training. If you can't handle something simple like this, how can you expect to be a Knight?" Fedrich continued, staring at the youth with the same angry glare. "Proper Knights don't question their commanders. Got it?"

Winston scowled, raising his hand in a salute. "Yes _Sir_."

"Then move out!" Fedrich ordered.

The students all jumped across rooftops, heading for the docks where they could get down without trampling someone. Fedrich made to go, but Diamante held him back. The elder knight looked bothered by something, his lips drawn tight.

"Something the matter between you and Winston?"

Fedrich crossed his arms casually. "He and I don't see eye to eye on certain things."

"Thing such as?"

"...Private things."

Diamante considered the words. "Alright, then. Just remember, you may be in command of this assignment, but they are _my_ students and answer to _me_. Don't let that line blur any more than it needs to."

Fedrich nodded, and the elder Knight leapt away.

_'He may be your student, Diamante, but if Winston crosses me like he's done, he won't get away with it so easily...'_

Putting the resentment aside, he made a great leap across the street and to roofs beyond. Each pass left him suddenly crowded by humanity's roar, then silenced as he swiftly crossed across the artificial ground he tread. Several rooftops later, he bound into the air and into the great expanse of docks and piers at the seaside. Landing and crouched to soften the fall, he stood and looked around him. People stared in shock, paused in their routines. Fedrich tugged on his jacket to seat it comfortably on his shoulders, then began walking to the north as if it were no strange thing.

The cobblestone piers were filled with barrels, crates, and carts selling goods. People and animals equally mingled in the central path of the dock, some common beasts from the wilds and others as strange as the people who led them. Fedrich gazed curiously at horses as tall as a man, people with colorful clothes, and the sounds of many languages. Even the rare Burmecian was among the throng, all from the eastern Vube Desert.

_'Not a surprise. The Cleyran tribes were always quicker to trade and travel...'_

He looked at the ships at dock, many of them tall crafts that seemed a spider's web of nets, ropes, and sail. Small fishing boats were tucked between their larger brethren, seagulls swarming around them as fish were lugged from the holds. Atop the greatships men swung agilely between masts, setting knots and hauling goods from the deep recesses of the wooden hull. Flags of several nations flew proudly, especially the red dyed banners interrupted by three black vertical bars. These, he knew, were the pirate's ships.

He continued along the dock, taking a leisurely pace as he admired the rush of trade between city-folks and the visitors from across the oceans. Such great commerce he was used to, born to it in Burmecia and admiring of within Lindblum. This, however, felt quite different than normal bartering. Here was the lifeblood of many people, of cities all across Gaia. Intermingled with the salty air, he felt truly at the apex of the interaction between the people of the world.

"'Ey, now!" A great shoulder buffered him, knocking him a step back. Fedrich looked to see who jostled him, and was mildly surprised to be looking at a shoulder level with his eyes. Glancing up, a deep tanned northerner regarded him with a scowl. He adjusted a barrel on his opposite shoulder. "Watch it, furry man!"

"Sorry..." Fedrich squeaked, staring at the giant.

"You ought to be!" He barked, continuing deeper into the mass of people.

Fedrich hurried along, seeing northerners just as immense working atop one of the raiding ships. They seemed content to pick up entire barrels and boxes to haul into the city. Fedrich grew worried, wondering what such strength could do even without a weapon. He was suddenly less sure of his plans if all the northern men were as strong looking. Such a force could take on twice its numbers if they had the training and leadership.

"Didn't I say to move, rat-face?" The same deep voice asked.

Fedrich looked and saw the same man without the barrel, his arms crossed over his chest like great veins of stone.

"What are you trading?" He asked before considering the dangers.

The northerner smiled, teeth yellowish from lack of care. "What's it to you? Get gone!"

"I'm sorry."

"What's all this, rat-face?" The man cracked his knuckles. "Think you can stand 'ere and keep sayin' sorry?"

"I don't want any trouble."

"Oh, you got trouble, skinny man! You don't stand when the great Regolio says to move. Maybe I'll toss you out of my way instead!"

The northerner reached for Fedrich, but the knight jumped back nimbly out of his reach. The man growled and pressed forward, his great frame knocking other people aside. Fedrich tried to keep out of his reach, but a hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him still. With a grunt, he lifted the Burmecian from the ground and heaved him over the heads of the people around him, crashing into a stand of barrels several feet away. The northerner guffawed loudly, lifting his arms and gaining the cheers and laughter from his crewmates who witnessed the exchange.

"Next time move when told to, rat-face!" The man said as a farewell, treading back to his ship.

Fedrich winced in pain, shifting arms and legs to get his bearings. Pushing with his hands, he leaned up and came to a sitting position around the wood barrels that softened his fall. Standing, he wavered as dizziness struck him.

_'Oh Goddess, my head...'_

The nausea passed, and he stepped out of the cluster of barrels back to the flow of people. Not a one had stopped to check if he was okay. He wondered if it was out of fear, or because he was one of the Regent's men. He rubbed his hand across the back of his head, and it came back with small stains of blood.

"Great..." He reached into his jacket, discovering his glass vials of healing potions were all smashed, the salve soaked in the fabric and his fur. "Oh, that's just _great_..." Luck had it his glaive was in one piece, the metal haft meant to take abuse in stride. He flexed his toes and fingers, legs and limbs, feeling intact if not rattled. Looking back to the man who hurled him like a doll, the giant was swaggering to his ship laughing. One half of his mind tore into a rage, wanting to mix it up with the raider and show he wasn't to be pushed around. However, the other eagerly pointed out that the odds weren't in his favor.

Grimly, he looked around again and saw that no one was at all interested in the brief grapple. What was it that made a population so numb to an overt attack like this?

The revolution?

The idea formed quickly in his head, that the people might not have interfered because they saw it as part of their revolution against the Regent. Maybe the raiders were given orders to hassle his men and prove that they weren't welcome. He grew worried that his fellow knights might be under the same oppression, especially his eager students. Tugging out his pocketwatch, he frowned at the crack on the glass face, but noted it was only a few minutes past ten 'o clock. It would be two more hours before they were to convene at the Inn. Trying to find them in the great crowds of people would be difficult if not impossible, even if they did stand out among humans. He would try, though, and see if this was just an isolated incident.

Pressing through the lanes of travel in the docks was a test of patience, even the noon business avenues in Lindblum unable to boast of more numbers in such a space. The noise, too, was grating on his ears and nerves.

_'It's a wonder at all that people can talk in this din! Even my own thoughts sound muted against this...'_

A sudden commotion caused a stir up ahead, and Fedrich stood straight to look above the heads of the shorter humans around him. He was surprised to see a few northerners on horseback yelling to clear room for their steeds, apparently intent on getting to a ship. Slowly they parted the river of people in their relentless drive, and stopped quite suddenly as Fedrich moved out of their way.

"'Ey, ain't he one of them?" One of the dark skinned raiders asked of his fellows.

"That he is, boys." One of the men answered, nodding his head. Waving an arm, his men led their steeds to form around the Burmecian. "Listen, warrior, you're to come with me."

"Who sent you?"

"His Lord, the Duke." The man replied.

"For what reasons?"

"I don't know. When the Duke asks, I obey. Please follow me."

Fedrich was tense, wondering what exactly the Duke would want with him. The man hadn't even directed a friendly word to him, only stared in wonder and scorn. "My men are scattered along the docks, I'll need to find them and-"

"Enough!" One of the northerners shouted, suddenly grabbing at his wide and curved sword, pointing it at Fedrich. "You're comin' with us, like it or else!"

Fedrich gripped his glaive, but did not unleash it from his shoulder restraint. "What's this about? Why does the Duke want to speak with me?"

The leader of the raiders growled in frustration, taking up his own scimitar. "Take him if he won't come!"

Before they could hurdle him in with their horses, Fedrich crouched and leapt into the skies, surprising his would be captors. He landed on a tiled rooftop, almost losing balance and rolling off. He steadied himself, then looked as the raiders argued among one another. One threw his cutlass in anger at the knight, but it bounced harmlessly at the shingles from his feet. They split up, kicking their horses to a trot and bowling people out of their way. Fedrich saw they were heading down the piers to their ships.

_'Oh hell. They're getting help...something must have gone wrong at the manor! I gotta find the others and Macky!'_

Standing, he took a deep breath and began running along the rooftop, leaping across buildings and looking for any sign of his comrades. If the raiders got ahead of him, then they would overwhelm him while they were separated from one another. But to find his allies among the thousands of people on the docks? He gritted his teeth, wondering how it could be done.

It was a flicker of gray in his eyes, but far down the street Fedrich saw a dot jump up and down a moment. Blessing his fortunes, he flew across the rooftops, leapfrogging to cover the distance as quickly as he could. The gray dot again appeared above the crowd, large enough to tell it was a Burman pushing ahead with natural advantage. Seconds later Fedrich landed on a root adjacent to the figure, and he saw Winston pushing at the unmoving crowds with his usual brash words.

"Winston!" Fedrich cried, gaining the other's ears. He looked up, and his frown deepened at the sight of his commander. Fedrich motioned for him to come frantically, and he hopped up to stand face to face with him.

"What?" The student growled.

"The raiders are on the move! We've got to get the others and meet with Macky, something's gone wrong."

This gave the youth a start, and he looked at the ships as if pirates would suddenly leap from the decks after them.

"Do you know where the others are?"

"I saw the girl a minute ago..."

"Good! You find her and Perce and get to the Inn. I'm going after Diamante. If I'm not back in ten minutes, go to the manor and let Macky know what's happened!"

"Right." He saluted briefly, then spun and jumped away towards the markets deep in the city.

Fedrich followed the same, leaping farther along the docks in the general direction he saw Diamante go when they split up. He hoped the elderly knight wouldn't be away from the docks, else it would be impossible to find him in the twisty and narrow alleys between homes and shops.

> > >

"Sir, what should we do with the soldiers?"

Jon Peradin looked at his Captain with an expression of disdain. Sometimes the man was so simple minded he had to spell out orders as if tutoring a five-year-old. "You should do with them as we do with anyone who is an enemy of the house."

"Execute 'em, then?"

A sigh. "Yes, Captain..."

The man saluted briefly, then turned and began barking commands to his underlings to haul them into the far back of the manor. Jon took another sip of his brandy, enjoying the spicy swirl as it simmered along his throat and belly. It was his best reserve, and he would enjoy it completely as his control of the land was brought to him as it was his father. It was tragedy that stole him away six months ago, unable to see his inherited land truly his own one more time. On his deathbed, he swore vengeance and the reclamation of the state with his father's dying breath. Since then, he felt as if the wizened soul was always close by, offering support.

_'You'd be proud of me, father. I've come so far...and now the wheel is in motion. Nothing will stop me from bringing our land back from the Regent.'_

"Servant!" He shouted. Immediately one of the men at his aid jumped to his side, keeping a respectful distance.

"Yes, m'Lord?"

"Bring out my messenger and some parchment."

"Right away, m'Lord." The servant vanished into a door to the farther wing.

_'Heh, it's so pleasant to have such luxury.'_

Jon tipped another gulp of drink into his mouth, savoring the tingling that spread from his torso to his fingers and toes. He set the snifter aside, knowing when enough was enough. This cask would have to last until the state was his, and he didn't want to spoil such a good year on the preliminary effort. The wing door opened again, and the messenger hobbled over to the Duke's side and rested on an opposing chair. In his hands was a large wood tablet, paper scrolls hanging from the top, and a candle with a small metal cup above it. Sitting next to the man was a moogle, the creature rocking forth and back, pom-pom bobbling in turn.

"Are you ready, Sir?" The elderly notary asked.

"Quite." Jon sat up, hummed loudly and paused, gathering words. "To...his eminent Lord Oberon, Duke of Kohlingen. I bring good news from the east." He considered words as the notary wrote them in fluid script. "The raiders from the north agreed to work for plunder in Lindblum, and have shown considerable liking to my orders. Their leader, Tantars, is a wise man who knows his worth. Hold on, hold on..."

"Sir?"

"Gimme a moment." He leaned on his hands, figuring he should have orated the note first, then drank to his desire. "Alright, go on. The Inquisitor from Lindblum was smarter than I'd hoped, and discovered my intentions quite easily. He is currently locked away, and his soldiers are being hunted and killed. I plan to declare open action against the Regent today. I shall secure my land, then rally the men to storm the Grand Castle alongside you in glorious combat. Truly and sincerely yours, Duke Jon Peradin."

The notary slowly nodded. "Finished, Sir."

"Very good! Have this sent to Duke Oberon Highguard right away."

"Of course, Sir." He rolled up the parchment, gently using a small knife to cut the paper to size for the note. He then bound it with a ribbon, tugging out a stamp with a rubber tip. He dipped it into the wax in the cup, and then sealed the message properly. Standing, he walked to one of the doors and held it open for the moogle. The furry critter hovered in the air, wings a blur as it waited for his human to finish preparing the message. Once ready, the moogle took it in tiny hands.

"Did you really...?"

"Heck no, fuzzy, I wrote something sober." The notary sighed. "Idiot nobleman..."

> > >

He looked around the street that ran adjacent to the Inn, eyes carefully picking through the humans to see if his superiors were anywhere to be found. Seeing nothing, he snorted and checked his watch. It was seconds from the ten minutes that the human-rutting dragoon gave him, and he counted them down until it was ten thirty.

"Alright." Winston looked back to his classmates, the girl and boy sitting silently at a bench just outside the Inn doors. "Get up, you two. We're going."

"It's been ten minutes already?" Eria looked at her silver pocketwatch. "Really?"

"No, I'm just making conversation." Winston snarled. "Get moving. We're gonna get some answers from this Duke whether he likes it or not."

"B-But what about Sir Diamante?"

He glared at Perce, the meeker student shirking at the attention. The mystic was always indecisive and lazy, never doing anything he wasn't ordered to. If there was anything Winston keenly disliked, it was someone who couldn't see ahead of his own nose. Indecisive Perce was quickly adding to his foul mood.

"Forget him! Now get up!"

The two stood quickly, and Winston smiled at their trained reactions to any loud command. He too felt the need to follow orders, but not so much as they. He was of the Ruglia line, and they always were reputed for leadership qualities and a subconscious desire to act. He followed his own desires before considering the words of another or the petty ideals pounded into his head as part of becoming a Dragon Knight. This training was only a necessary burden. As soon as he was versed in battle and able to use dragoon magic, he would make his own path in life and carve himself a little spot in history.

"Look, that Inquisitor told us that if the pirates did anything iffy that we should let him know. They tried to snatch Castor, so we're gonna tell him just that."

"Maybe we should wait, Winston." Eria insisted. "Just a minute. Maybe Fedrich and Sir Diamante are close by, and-"

"We've waited long enough! Eria, Perce, get those legs limber and follow me. We'll make our own road on the rooftops."

Winston crouched, then jumped up high and easily sailed to the height of the four level Inn. Landing on the edge, he leaned forward so he wouldn't fall. Eria followed quickly, but Perce misstepped and almost fell save grabbing the edge of the top. The mystic scrambled to the top, a sheepish grin on his face. Together they sprinted across the tops of homes and businesses, slowing occasionally as they reconsidered their flight. Luckily the Manor was at the far western edge of town, so it wouldn't be very difficult to find it. Getting inside and to the Regent's man, however, would prove more so. Following a large street, Winston spied the orderly fruit trees inside the Manor grounds in the distance.

_'Great! Now I can show the others that I don't need those Knights to lead me around like a child!'_

The buildings became sparse as they neared the estate, so they shifted to leapfrogging on the earth. After shocking numerous humans that saw them, Winston let the energy of his leaping slack and bring him comfortable close to the gates. Several soldiers were before them, clad in chain mail and bearing many swords. Eria and Perce hovered behind, so Winston strode to the gate without sign of fear.

"Let me in." He demanded of the nearest man. "I'm part of the Inquisitor's guard and I need to speak with him."

The man eyed the Burmecian and smiled smugly. "He's busy. Said he didn't want to be bothered."

"I'll bother him as I like. Let us through, we have important information to give to him."

"Why not tell me, eh? I can send a message."

Winston crossed his arms. "For his ears only, human."

"Well, I ain't 'ta let anyone into the Manor, _subber_."

Winston growled, baring his teeth. While his exposure to humanity was limited, he still harbored rage to anyone who would mock him. Humans, especially, that took delight in speaking of their physical superiority and how miserable everyone else was in comparison. It took some effort to keep his arms from throttling the man.

"Let me pass." He growled, emphasizing each word to drive his anger home.

The soldier let a hand fall to the hilt of his sword, obviously showing he wasn't going to move. Winston looked back to his two classmates, then jerked his head up to indicate his solution. They nodded after a second, and Winston turned back to the human with a wicked grin.

"Alright, you hairless _freak_, I'll go inside on my terms."

The soldier drew his sword, but the three knights in training already leapt above their heads and above the gates barring their path. Bounding up the stone path, they continued to the roundabout and fountain and came to a sudden halt. The main door was open, a familiar Captain standing in the doorjamb. Winston only briefly recognized the man who had escorted them into town and made a jibe at him from the start.

"Hold it right there, rats!" Hawina commanded, lifting a hand for emphasis. "You're tresspassin' on the Duke's ground."

"Where is Mackenzie?" Winston demanded, hand taking his lance and holding it ready.

"Archers draw!" Hawina shouted.

Winston flinched, looking around to see where the order went. The anger in his chest grew chilled as he saw men by shrubbery and doors, between trees and on top of the Manor proper. Dozens of them were in view, all holding powerful longbows with arrows strung and tensed to fly. They were all around, and the burman realized in cold terror that he was surrounded. Eria and Perce were holding their lances as well, standing back to back as they surveyed the situation. The archers were too numerous, too scattered, too well placed to attack without being an easy target.

Hawina laughed, smiling. He lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. "Fire."


	11. Chapter seven, Dulce et Decorum Est

This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, many of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! _Remember, Italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events._

Enjoy...

* * *

:A Moment of Discord:

Chapter Seven: Dulce Et Decorum Est

"Damn, they must have already left for the Manor." Fedrich swore, looking around the greatroom of the Inn. He stepped outside and looked around at the carts and people, the familiar gray and silver of his people missing. This was just what he needed, being separated again in a city becoming active and hostile.

"By the fangs of Bahamut, those children give me a difficult time!" Diamante commented as he stepped out of the Inn. "Fedrich, you weren't thinking clearly sending them off on their own. Who knows what trouble they may be in?"

"I couldn't risk them staying in one place too long. If they get to the Manor, then Macky and his men will be there."

"Provided they aren't dead!" The elder knight snapped. "Look, you have a valid point, but apart we risk more than we would together. If those raiders are really out for us, then the Manor would have been ready for us beforehand. You cannot assume that it was an isolated incident. For now, I count this whole city against me."

"Then what will we do?"

"Get them and Sir Inquisitor out of here before we get pinned down."

"Out?"

Diamante snorted in frustration. "To the plains! The Dragon's Gate is but a days travel from here, where safety lies. But first, stop wagging your tongue and get moving to the Manor!"

"Right!"

The two knights bounded down the street with lances in hand.

> > >

The skies rained arrows, metal tips bolts covering the cobblestone roundabout in a clatter of loud shrieks. Hawina grit his teeth, seeing no bloody bodies on the ground. He looked up, seeing the Burmecian knights soaring in the sky, legs propelling them to safety.

"Get them!" He cried, charging inside to get to the roof.

On the roof, the archers tried desperately to notch another salvo against the enemy warriors, but the knights fell onto them before strings were drew taught. Perce, after tugging his lance from the body of his slain enemy, didn't hesitate as he charged across the rooftop to the other archers on the farther wings of the Manor. The training and instinct dulled the fear in his heart, luckily for him. He jumped up again, not as high, and flung his polearm down at another archer trying to track his movement. The man cried in pain as the weapon knocked him down, the bow falling from his hands. Perce landed close to him and grabbed the pole, noting with a pause that the man was still alive and conscious.

"Y'bastard..." The archer gritted between his teeth.

Perce had a sudden start, mind catching up with what he had done. He had injured this man grievously in the left shoulder, the blood pooling beneath him. He had _killed_ a man not ten seconds ago. He was killing people, casting life and death with a casual snap of the arm and wrist. He had done a horrible thing.

The archer reached to his belt and drew a dagger.

Perce, in his stupor, thrust the lance down once again and cut the man's throat out. The human gargled words, convulsed a second, then grew still and silent.

"Oh G-Goddess Rei..." Perce stammered, staring at the human he had slain. The second, he realized.

Someone screamed at him, and a second later a sharp pain blossomed between his shoulders. Perce cried out and fell forward, catching himself on his hands and scraping his palms. His muscles grew limp, and he slid to the ground and moaned as torment throbbed in his back. He lay there for what seemed hours until rough hands tugged him, dragging him to a sitting position. Perce's eyes focused on Eria's face, Winston somewhere else on the roof.

"Perce! Oh, come on! Snap out of it!"

"E-Eria..." He managed weakly, trying to think outside the blinding pain.

She smiled desperately. "You're hurt. Can you sit?"

"Yeah..."

"Alright." She moved to his back, and the pain doubled. "Okay. This is gonna hurt, so hold on. I'm gonna pull it out, okay? One, two..."

Perce gasped, cried out in pain as she tore the arrow from his body. Hands tugged at his shirt, and she pulled it back to get a view of the injury. He could almost feel the warm blood soak his fur, trailing down his back to his rear and his tail.

"Oh Goddess..." She swore. "Hold on, Perce, I've got a potion here somewhere. Hold on."

He felt her hands wiping the salve on his wound, the pain almost numb in intensity. A coolness eased itself into his back, the pain ebbing slightly as her fingers worked it into the flesh. A hand appeared from behind him, sticking a potion vial in his face with bloody fingers. The stopper was already out.

"Here, take it." She insisted, waggling it in his eyes.

Perce weakly took the vial and drank it, tasting the metallic tang of his own blood on the lip. The soothing coolness eased itself into his chest, and he finally took a deep breath to ease his burning lungs.

"This isn't good, Perce, it's pretty deep." She let go of his shirt and skirted around to pace him, hands on his shoulders and eyes staring into his own. Her concern was plain to the face, eyes teary with exaggerated emotions prone to women. "You know magic, don't you? Can you try some of it? Huh?"

"I...can..." Perce mumbled, suddenly remembering that he was skilled in dragoon magic and limited healing spells. He almost laughed, knowing he was more than able to take care of his own injuries without people coddling him. Closing his eyes, he looked to his soul for the mantras to the right spell. Recalling the words, he hummed them gently and focused his strength to it, bound his energy and spirit to the words. He then cast the spell out, lighting the fuse with a word on the tongue. "Cure...!"

The results were dazzling to those unused to magic. Sparkling lights rolled across his body like firebugs, swirling as if in a breeze. They reshaped and coalesced into circular green rings, then sunk into his flesh with an icy tingling that eased his muscles. The pain was almost completely banished by the spell, but still held on and proved a nuisance rather than a crippling restraint.

Eria looked mesmerized, eyes wide like a child. "That's amazing..."

An arrow suddenly clattered by their feet, and any sense of security was shattered. Eria helped Perce to his feet, and they fled to the center of the roof where no archer could see them. They both noted that the soldiers with them were all dead, Winston standing over them with his shoulders slouched, lance barely in his loose fingers. They approached him carefully, discovering that he wasn't just staring at nothing, but a hole in the roof that led to the inside. Perce looked down and saw numerous men in there, swords drawn and hands on the ladder that led to the top.

"Winston?"

"Stalemate." He spoke up with a snarl. "They can't get up, and we can't get down."

"But-"

"Archers." Winston corrected the wounded mystic. "They've got us covered. If we try and jump, we die..."

Perce shivered in understanding. Sitting, he set his lance down and rifled through his own pouched for a more potent potion. He considered himself lucky he wore chain mail, but that simply made the wound less severe. He would need to see a proper healer to have the wound either stitched closed or sealed with more powerful magics than he knew. Finding said potion, he slurped it in one gulp, then tossed the glass vial away.

"Dammit..." Winston cursed, kneeling and sitting on his legs with his lance firm in hand. He looked like a fisherman sitting in a stream, waiting for a trout to wander too close to his reach. The knight in training looked back on his classmates with teeth bared. "Can't you think of something, you two?"

"Like what? You said we were trapped." Eria replied.

Winston ignored her, eyes instead staring at Perce. "You know magic. Can't you do anything to clear those bastards out from that door?"

"I don't know..." The wound was still throbbing on his back, and he knew a headache would come if he cast too many spells. He was glad that he had built an endurance to the pain and difficulty that came with using magic on a regular basis. To cast a spell into such a small space, it would be difficult. He wasn't even confident with his dragoon magic, not a spell that wasn't bound to his lance.

"Didn't Diamante say that you knew the greatest spell? He said something about dragon's essence and a seal."

"Crest..." The mystic murmured. "Dragon's Crest."

"Well, can't you use it?"

"I..." Perce was hesitant to try such a thing. That spell was not difficult to learn, it was taught to most Dragon Knights as they graduated. There was a catch, as most powerful magic had. That spell would summon the spirits of dragons that he had slain, and they would ravage any foe in their path. It was said you could judge the worth of a Dragoon by how strongly he could cast that spell.

He hadn't killed any dragons, however, only two meager hatchlings in the mountains above Burmecia. That would only knock a man over, not hurt nor kill him.

"I'm not strong enough to use it..."

Winston glowered, clearly restraining himself from moving. "You coward! Get over here and cast the damn spell!"

"I can't."

"Can't...or won't? Are you defying my order?"

"You aren't our leader, Winston. I can't use that spell because I'm not strong enough to."

Winston pounded the rooftop, a loud crack issuing from his knuckle. He glared at the mystic, his eyes wide and breath hissing between his teeth. Perce grew tense in fear, feeling that the unruly burman was at his ends and beginning to fray. Winston jerked to his feet, took his lance in both hands, and threw himself down the doorway into the manor. Perce and Eria both gasped at his irrational attack, listening in frozen terror as screaming and the shrieks of metal rang out from within the Manor.

> > >

Fedrich landed and skipped forward a few steps, reigning in his balance and keeping an eye at the front gate of the Manor. Diamante landed close to him, lance resting on a narrow shoulder. The entrance to the manor was closed, a near dozen men standing around with their swords in hand. The citizens gave them a wide berth, unwilling to risk trouble.

"Feh." The elderly knight snorted knowingly. "Already waiting for us."

"Well, we have to find the others."

"Through them?"

Fedrich shook his head. "We need to find another way in."

"Using your head for once, I see. Come, they can't oversee the whole perimeter of the grounds."

They both jumped away from the main gate, passing along the great length of iron rod fence, searching for a spot to get in without being noticed easily. After inspecting many locations, they agreed on a place where the organized fruit trees sat closest to the barrier. They would need only luck to pass unnoticed while in the air, the safety of low hanging branches and thick trunks enough to keep them hidden from wandering eyes.

"Steady..." Diamante let the word hang, waiting for a lull in passerbys. "...Now!"

They both jumped hard, sailing easily over the gate and landing with a rustle of leaves and limbs into the rows of trees. They kept still long enough to pluck twigs and leaves from their bodies, then to peek and inspect the guard.

"Listen..." Diamante said quietly, leaning forwards.

Fedrich did as he was told, concentration on the sounds and noises around him. He heard the bustle of carts, people, and society behind him in the city, a background roar like a flowing river. The sway of branches came as a zephyr passed now and then. Ahead he heard a sharp sound that his elder must have noticed. He waited anxiously, then heard it again; it was the sharp twang of a bow and brief whistle of the arrow.

"Archers?"

"Those fools must be nearby, 'less the men are shooting at dummy targets to pass the time." Diamante pressed ahead slowly, eyes keenly focused on the manor walls. "Follow quietly."

Fedrich fell into line, keeping an eye out for anyone on patrol that might notice them. Slowly they passed through the trees, sneaking closer to the Manor proper. The sound of bows releasing became clearer, and the figures of archers were evident throughout the green grass in front of the windows and the wings of the great hall. Diamante stopped suddenly, and Fedrich bumped into his back.

"I'll take them."

"There's too many of them."

Diamante only chuckled. "That's what I hope to put an end to. Hold back and watch what my travels have brought me."

"...Okay. Be careful."

Diamante nodded, then stood straight and held his lance parallel to the earth, pointed to the occupied archers. Slowly, he tilted the lance upward, bending his elbow as it rose. With utmost caution, he rested the haft of the polearm on his muzzle, then began chanting words below their advanced hearing. The lance took on an otherworldly glow, and the light began to spin around it like a pinwheel. His words became louder, yet foreign and thick in rhythm. In an instant, the light disappeared, and Diamante again pointed the lance to the enemy ahead.

"Dragon's Crest!" He shouted, casting the spell as if throwing a spear.

Beneath the archers, a glow rose from the earth similar to the one that enveloped Diamante's weapon. While difficult to see, the glowing took the shape of a giant sigil, the head of a dragon surrounded by runes and ancient patterns of symbology. The head of the dragon suddenly rose from the earth followed by several others. In an explosive roar that shook the earth, dozens of ethereal dragons swirled around the Manor and the sky. The archers, whose interest in the sight was panic and fear, were thrown around and broken like wood dolls, armor shattering and blood spilt. The spirits then disappeared like mist, leaving the bodies of the deceased on the earth.

Fedrich was struck with a sense of awe unlike any he felt before. He was witness to spells of caliber, yet to see such a display of strength his people alone wielded was a joy that warmed his heart. He was certain, then, that the Burmecian nation was not so weak as people claimed.

"Fly!" Diamante commanded, and Fedrich obeyed.

The two charged from the groves, seeing that archers were still stationed around the farther ends of the Manor. Keeping on their feet to stay limber, they charged the enemy soldiers. Arrows flew, yet the superior speed and reaction born to burmans allowed them to dodge the bolts like a ball thrown by a child. Polearms were flung, and two archers fell in turn. The Dragon Knights followed this pattern, casting their weapons where needed or simply lacerating flesh and bone in the most vital of human parts.

"Up top?" Fedrich suggested.

Diamante nodded. "Seems a safe wager!"

They leapt skyward, just enough to land on the top of the Manor and not worry about keeping still to be a target. Their worries were unfounded as they saw bloody dead around them, two lanky forms at a crouch ahead.

"Fools." Diamante looked upset to see them, yet his eyes revealed that he was glad of their safety.

Fedrich jogged to meet them, seeing that the girl was sitting and curling her tail around her fingers. Perce was sitting still, the back of his orange tunic stained deeply with blood.

"You two!" Diamante shouted.

They both stood and saluted, habits ever ingrained into their actions. Just as quickly they went on the defensive, looking around and most especially at a door shaped hole in the roof. Fedrich looked at it, figuring it was a means for them to get up in case the roof needed repairs. He looked back to the two students, and suddenly realized that a third was missing.

"Where's Winston?" Both Diamante and Fedrich asked, looking at one another in quiet amusement.

"He...he went down there." Eria squeaked, as if saying this was a terrible guilty admission.

"It was full of men...too many. He looked so mad." Perce added, trying to get the words out. "He was...so mad that I couldn't..."

"Never you mind, boy. So he's down here, is he? How long was it?"

"Maybe...five minutes? Oh, don't!" Eria shouted as her teacher walked to the open door.

Diamante leaned over the edge of the door, but he only recoiled in horror instead of forcibly by swords or arrows. "Ugh. Did he really...?" With that, he jumped down into the Manor proper.

Fedrich stepped to the door, and he looked inside to see what turned Diamante's stomach. Inside it was a small room, a ladder leading to the top. On almost every available surface was blood or a body, the smell of sweat and the faint odor of death lingering like bad eggs. He paused to let the shock pass, and he looked to the students and motioned them to follow. Taking the ladder, he climbed down and carefully picked his way across the room and to a door that led to a hallway. Diamante was present, eyes scanning the carpeted length.

"What happened?"

The elder knight only snorted. "You're pushing it, Ruglia..."

"Hm?"

"Come on, we can follow the blood." He motioned to a trail of spots that went to a set of stairs at the far end of the hall. "Fedrich, you take the back. You two, in the middle. You hurt, Perce?"

"Nothing serious." Perce replied. "I'll be fine."

"Then don't expect me to bail you out if you're lying." Diamante stalked down the hall with a determined step.

Fedrich kept an eye on the closed doors as they walked down the hall. The stairwell was littered with several bodies, blood spattered on the walls in streaks and spats. Each man had a gaping wound where his neck would be, eyes empty but reflective of the terror that befell them. Their swords had a fair share of blood on them, so wherever Winston was, he had to be wounded.

"This is horrible." Eria commented.

"...It'll get worse."

This took Fedrich's attention. Diamante was acting far to calm for this, almost as if he expected this kind of thing to happen. Was Winston capable of this kind of slaughter? It seemed unfeasible on his own, he was still a young man and still raw to battle. He didn't look at all like the type to do this.

Down the stairs, they came upon another hall, but this one had a living man resting against a wall. Diamante approached him carefully, lowering his lance to point at the man's gut. The man was doomed, his neck bleeding profusely, yet shallow enough to give him time to suffer.

"Where is he?"

The man gargled words, eyes wide in fear. "He's a demon...a d-demon! Oh God...save me from...him..." His voice grew weak, then faded. He slumped back, and his eyes grew dim. Diamante retracted his lance and shook his head.

"Diamante."

Said knight looked back to Fedrich. "Hn?"

"What's wrong with Winston?"

He sighed. "Winston has...problems. Plainly, he has always been prone to outbursts of violence against anyone in his way. The doctors considered placing him into the knighthood as a means to curb it, but it didn't worked as planned. Now his anger is even worse, as is his tongue. His family line's been cursed with bad blood."

"Bad blood? You mean..."

A nod. "His ancestors were berserkers."

This explained a great deal to Fedrich. Berserkers were a small tribe of burmans that existed centuries back before Burmecia was truly the center of their race. They were vicious warriors and excellent hunters, but their aggression was unsuited to society and they were shunned by other tribes. Some said their rage was so vast that even the greatest of dragons feared their power. It took generations, but they were slowly absorbed into the mainstream culture of Burmecia as were all other tribes. Now they only existed in books, and apparently in certain individuals.

"So he's-"

"Gone berserk, I fear. It happened once before when he first was assigned to my tutelage. He met me on even terms, he barehanded and I armed with a dulled pole. Now I don't even wish to consider what he is capable of in that madness."

"What should we do?"

Diamante looked to the open door that led into the large central hall. "We press on...and hope."

They slowly walked to the door, hearing the brief sounds of clashing metal and curses. As they approached the hall, the sounds slowed, the conflict within coming to an end. As Fedrich stepped ahead and looked into the room, the last man on his feet gripped his neck, then fell into death. Furniture was upended, tables smashed and windows cracked with spider web holes. The fine carpets and rugs were spattered in deep crimson stains. Men, soldiers of the city and northerners from the raiding ships, were equally among the few dozen in the greatroom.

Amidst this was Winston, the young man standing over his latest kill with his lance tightly held in one hand.

"Winston!" Diamante shouted, stepping into the room.

The knight in training looked to the source of the voice, turning to reveal the extent of his injuries. His shirt was cut in several places and more red than burnt orange. One of his ears had a ragged tear in it, and the eye below it was closed. The tip of his tail, several inches of it, was gone. Tufts of fur were missing on his arms and legs, cut away in his mindless fervor. His free hand was terribly broken, fingers jutting in unnatural angles.

"Are you still in it, boy?" The elder knight asked.

"I..." Winston spoke, voice strong. "I...am not...weak!"

He fell to one knee, a hand on the ground to keep balance. The fingers holding his lance went limp, and the weapon clattered to the ground. He had fallen unconscious, yet stayed upright. The sight was a relief and terrifying, that even in such pain he was standing and willing to kill. Winston was always an arrogant and argumentative student. To Fedrich, that image was replaced by a fractured mask hiding the cruel malice of a murderer.

"Eria, Perce, see to his injuries." Diamante ordered. He looked at Fedrich. "Go see where that Inquisitor of yours is."

This gave Fedrich a start. In his desire to find his three young charges, he had completely forgotten about Macky and his own guards. There hadn't been any sign of them in the one wing they traversed, so he assumed he was in the opposite end of the Manor. On quick feet, he ran to the opposing door and began the search.

It was a long number of minutes until Fedrich found where his old friend was kept. After a brief chat, Fedrich spent many more minutes looking for the jailer and the ring of keys he needed to unlock the iron door. Macky explained what the Duke was after, and how he had set up a trap that killed his men. Informed, Fedrich knew there was no other alternative but to head back for Lindblum, even on foot. He was disappointed that there was no means to getting hold of an Airship to ferry them away, but it wasn't due back in three days. They would have to make due.

Back in the main hall, Winston was bound with an almost comical amount of bandages, potions applied and a cure spell to top it off, but he was still limp. Fedrich was worried, knowing he would be dead weight for whomever carried him in their flight to the Dragon's Gate.

"What other choice is there, really?" Macky asked. "I mean, we can't just hang around here any longer."

"Not at all, Sir Inquisitor, and neither will they permit us to stay or leave." Diamante commented.

"They who?"

"_That_ they." He pointed to the Manor's gate, a flood of northern pirates rushing up the cobblestone path brandishing weapons.

Macky chuckled sadly. "Aw hell, so much for the easy way out."

Fedrich looked to the back of the Manor, seeing the endless plains and distant mountains beyond the town. They had no water, no food save a possible few scraps, and wounded who needed rest and the attention of healers and doctors. The odds he had weighed seemed suddenly stacked against him. Looking back, the pirates were slowing, gathering into a large group and forming in accordance to who led and who followed.

"What can we do?" Perce asked, eyes glued to the massing numbers in the courtyard.

"Let's go." Macky insisted, running to the door that led to the large patio behind the Manor. "Come on! We need to get away from them, now!"

"Where to, though?" Diamante asked.

"Stables! We can get horses or chocs, whatever there is."

The others all knew it was their only chance to get away, burdened with a slow human and badly hurt fellow knight. Fedrich moved to pick up Winston, but the elder Dragon Knight claimed him first. Diamante held him by his shoulders and legs, shaking his head with his lips pressed together. Winston was his student, his responsibility. Fedrich nodded and made for the door along with Perce and Eria, the girl holding her friend's lance along with her own.

Macky pointed them towards a ramshackle collection of wood shacks and a fenced corral. "Over there! Quickly!"

The six of them ran to the stable, breaking the rusted iron lock on the door and stepping into the grounds, feet crunching dirty hay and straw. There were several horses in individual stalls, and in the farthest corner were four pale fellow chocobos. Fedrich hadn't suspected that the Duke might own chocobos, but he was glad to have been corrected.

"Everyone get a bird. Sir Halbred, you'll need to take a horse, those birds can't hold two people for long."

"Won't that-"

"Yes, it'll slow us down, but better than to wear the chocs out halfway to our freedom! We'll be in the clear so long as we can get a lead!"

The dragoon nodded, perturbed to be ordered around by a human.

Fedrich and the students quickly brought the chocobos out from their common stall, petting them while getting saddles strapped to their feathery backs. Macky tried with great trouble to get one of the leaner stallions calm, unable to get him to stand long enough to secure the harness.

"Blast this leggy beast!" Diamante swore. "Can't it stay still?"

"Horses are more wary of being ridden, so get used to it!" Macky growled, failing again to belt the straps.

Diamante shouldered the human out of the way, then tossed Winston with little grace onto the horse's back. He then mounted it bareback, pulling the limp burman upright so he wouldn't fall off. The stallion whinnied in irritation, but allowed this burden on its back with a grudge.

"How do you control it?"

"You use your feet and call to it. Just shout hie to go, whoa to slow down. Prod it with your feet when you say a word so it understands."

Diamante grimaced. "How do you humans get along with these...things?"

"'Cause we're stubborn bastards. Use the reigns to tug him left and right, and don't push him too hard. They can't keep up with chocs."

The knight nodded, and Macky ran to join his comrades on the golden chocobos. He climbed onto the bird, feeling just as nervous about the bird as the knight his horse. It had been years and then some since he last rode. He hoped this bird was amiable and well trained.

"Alright!" Fedrich shouted, ushering his chocobo to the door they entered. "Let's go! Let's go!"

The six carefully tromped out of the stables, and they nearly panicked when they saw the raiders a sparse dozen meters away. The surprise was upon both of them, but the pirates reacted by charging with blades out.

"Go! Ride hard!" Fedrich shouted, jabbing his ankles into the birds sides.

The bird warked and nearly jumped into the sky, clawed feet tearing at the grassy turf and charging towards the plains beyond Coral Cove. Diamante's horse whinnied loudly, hooves drumming the earth to keep up with the swifter birds as they fled the Manor. The others kept together as they ran, the raiders pursuing while others stopped in confusion. Fedrich looked back as they ran, seeing that the raiders had all but given up on the chase. He didn't relax, knowing that the bolder pirates might take horses and pursue. He hoped their sea legs would trouble them with earthbound steeds.

_'So this is it, then. This is the start of things. The people will revolt even if their Duke doesn't, not after men of the Regent just killed so many guards and assaulted their leader...'_

Fedrich put the ill omens aside, concentrating on staying alive to see this revolution to its end.


	12. Chapter eight, Steadfast and Resolute

This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, many of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! _Remember, Italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events._

Enjoy...

* * *

:A Moment of Discord:

Chapter Eight: Steadfast and Resolute

"Momma? When're we gonna go home?"

Illis looked at her son, Alvard, with a weary smile. "Not for a while, sweetie."

"Why?"

"Because we're on a vacation. Mister Oberon wants us to stay here and have fun. Don't you like it here?"

"Yeah..." Alvard fidgeted, chewing his thumbnail slowly.

"Well then, why not go play with your brother?"

The child nodded, then toddled away to join his sibling's imaginary adventures with wooden figurines. Illis restrained a sigh, leaning deep into the stuffed chair. It had barely been two weeks and already she was growing desperate for home, for her husband and the manor and her friends. Alvard and Leon were the same as ever, but she suspected they were worried about their daddy. She had explained several times that he had important work to do and that they were staying here until he was done. She wished for such an idealistic outlook on life, almost deluding herself with the lies she told. The lies were so much nicer than the truth.

_'The truth is Oberon plans on keeping me here until he gets his precious land back...'_

Illis had been troubled by his fervor in reclaiming his territory and his rightful power as a nobleman. He already had power, the entire town of Kohlingen was dedicated to his crops and farming enterprises, and no one else was vying for the use of the land he used. The only thing that he truly could gain was freedom from the Regent's laws and his taxes. Was it worth it, though? The laws were never strict or fought against, and the taxation was limited and hardly a matter for someone as wealthy as a nobleman. What could there be in the absence of the Regent's reign? What was the ultimate goal that Oberon strove for? Did his hatred of the Regent equate to his so-called lack of freedom, or was it envy of his power over the largest nation on the continent?

This time the sigh came unimpeded. Trying to wrap her mind around his logic and his reasoning was difficult, especially when his tirades shifted from mere lectures to rages against all things he didn't control. The man was power hungry, and her greatest question was where the line was drawn.

"Momma?"

Alvard again. He was still chewing his thumb. "Yes?"

"Does Mista Ob...Oberon have any kitties?"

Illis arched an eyebrow at the question. "Why, honey?"

"'Cause I wanna see them."

"I don't know. He didn't say if he did or didn't."

"Oh." He thought a moment, changing thumb for index finger. "Can I ask him?"

"Maybe later, sweetie."

"How much later?"

"At dinnertime, okay?"

"...okay."

Illis was deeply envious of her children. Already the concern about their time away from home was replaced by seeking out felines to mistreat. She wondered if anything ever really bothered those two. Despite being kept inside, they hadn't whined or cried, something she had already done many times. In their naivete, the pressure of the real world went right over their heads. She wished that she could be the same.

> > >

Roymond Highguard, even in his most favored spot on his father's property, couldn't prevent his muscles from tightening as he silently watched the assassin approach. It was a combination of frustration, anger, and a little fear, that encompassed his thoughts to the hirelings. Now, with the news of a dead laborer close to town, he primarily focused on the anger.

"G'afternoon." Desmond stopped short of the Captain, hands clenched at his sides.

"Are you sober?"

The assassin frowned. "Wish I weren't, but I am."

"Good." Roymond had agreed with his sister sibling for once, agreeing to keep the man away from liquor so he wouldn't pose a nuisance to the Manor. However, such hopes had already fallen to pieces. "Do you know why I called you here, Desmond?"

"Maybe."

"A man was found outside of town last evening. He was dead."

"Terrible news."

"The people who found him said a monster must have got him, but after being inspected, the healers noted the cuts were very similar and straight. They said it looked like the work of human hands."

"Crime's a terrible thing to have, but every city's got it."

"Not in _my_ city."

Desmond shrugged. "Beggin' your pardon, but this ain't your city."

"It might as well be!" Roymond barked, standing and flexing his fingers. His legs felt stiff, and he needed to pace to get his thoughts in order. Not that he was worried of misspeaking, but he wanted to make certain that the man understood his meaning. "My men protect this land, and I command them. If someone dies and my men could have prevented it, then it makes me look like an inadequate Captain. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I suppose..."

"Then why? Why did you do it, Desmond?"

"Who said I had anythin' to do with it?"

Roy stopped pacing, drawing the eyes of the murderer. "Your very presence tells me as much."

Desmond remained quiet, so Roy continued to walk. The man wasn't even putting forth an effort to allay the blame, not that he was competent enough to do so. Drunk, as he was most of the time in the past, he was quite open about his killings and his exaggerated glories. Now he was greatly different. Sobriety left Desmond Cutler a quiet man, unassuming and listless. He had none of the bravado or arrogance from before, and this was worth remembering.

"Was it an accident?"

"I weren't there."

"Did he spite you or try and rob you?"

"Never met 'em."

"Was he a traveler who no one will miss?"

"Couldn't say."

Roy spun on his heel and grabbed Desmond's shirt, nearly tearing the old fabric. "Quit insulting my intelligence! I know you did it, and I don't care. All I wish to know is _why_..."

Desmond reached up with a dirty hand, carefully but firmly removing the Captain's hand from his tunic. He met Roy's eyes, light blue opposite a deeper blue, almost black. For a moment, the expression on his face warranted his moniker of Redknife, but it moved on to a careless sigh. "Because...he was there."

Roy considered the reply. "An opportunity to kill without danger?"

"No, it's 'cause he was there when I was, an' I was still on the tail of a buzz."

"You...killed a man because of a hangover?"

Desmond shrugged. "Somethin' like that."

Roy was sincerely confused at his admission. He had suffered mighty headaches from too much liquor, but not enough to warrant slaying a man. Maybe being inebriated for so long could have adverse effects on a man, make him a little crazy when the high began to peter out? It could be a multitude of things, he knew, but which?

"You gonna arrest me now?" Desmond asked.

"No. I took care of it. Officially he was attacked by a thief who passed through here, nothing more." Roy looked at the man again, still curious of what he was like when clear of mind. "Go, but don't let your control slip like this again. Father may take a liking your skills, but I won't have a murderer loose in my streets."

"As you say."

Redknife turned and walked back the way he came, feet dragging as he descended to the ground. Roymond sighed, frustrated. He looked at his stuffed chair, knowing that the aged leather and cotton cushioning would do little to ease the strain on his shoulders. Only making sure that his father's plan went accordingly could lift that weight.

_'Dirt like him are what make even the best plans prone to failure. If that fool ends up betraying us or getting himself killed, then that will only worsen our odds.'_ He clenched his hands together, feeling nails biting into his palm. _'Why did father have to plan this revolution around so many incompetent fools? If we have any more setbacks, we'll be risking the entire revolution!'_

"So that drunkard is necessary?"

Roy frowned at the tone his sister used. She was always rude to him, upset that her place wasn't as vital as his own. He blamed it on mother for not teaching her to be a proper lady. "Yes."

"What for?"

"To assassinate people, it seems."

"People such as the Regent?"

Roy looked back at his sibling, the woman leaning in the doorframe of the manor. He noticed her hand was dangerously near the hilt of her sword, a nervous habit, for certain. Her own fervor to battle was just as problematic as Desmond and his drinking. He sat on his chair, no longer comfortable to pace. "Do you think he could _ever_ get close enough to the dictator to kill him? That man can hardly walk a step without someone smelling him."

"For once, I agree with you."

"So-"

"I heard it all, brother, and I agree. That man is too great a risk to us to let him wander freely in town. I say we be done with him and let the punishment suitable to murder be placed on his head."

"I would, but that mage has a liking to the man."

"The mage as well should be put out! They are both useless to this plan!"

Roy noticed the unusual anger in her voice when speaking of Brant Aquas. The mage was eccentric, but hardly a nuisance. His prowess in the black arts was the prime factor in deciding the battle against Lindblum. Without the mage, the rebellion would never succeed. Lindblum could only fall by magic as it was proven before during the Alexandrian Conquest.

"He is necessary, little sister."

She huffed, arms crossed. "But his worth barely balances with his detriment to our safety. The townspeople already fear him, and rumors are spreading. They claim we're falling under the same madness that took Brahne when she gained the power of those magical dolls."

"This is hardly the same." Roy sighed. "Brant is intelligent while those golems were without minds of their own."

"His mind is deluded in the madness."

Roy arched an eyebrow. "_The_ madness?"

Flaure nodded.

This drew some concern with Roy. The madness wasn't simply a person with an unbalanced mind, it was a dangerous result when one studied black magic. As your mind became more comfortable with the spells of death and chaos, the urge to use them became stronger as well. It was said that some people lost their minds to the magic and went insane, causing destruction around them until they burnt themselves out. If Brant were falling into the same thing...

"Do you have proof?"

"...Yes."

"What?"

"I won't say...but rest assured that it isn't something to take lightly."

"Little sister-"

"Enough!" She snapped, scowling at his pet name for her. "I want that man out, brother. See to it."

Before he could reply, she turned and stormed inside, closing the door with a loud snap of wood. Roy leaned back in the chair, steepling his fingers.

_'First Desmond, and now this. I can only hope that the plan holds together long enough for our goals...'_

_> > >_

"So what are we to do?"

Fedrich looked at his elder, seeing the knight with worry in his eyes. Their flight from Coral Cove had gone well, rushed and with dangers from following pirates, but well. Perce's injury had reopened, so they were forced to stop shortly so he could properly cast a spell to heal it further. The mystic also had put great effort into a spell for Winston, who hadn't roused at all in their flight. Everyone was fraught with worry, thinking that the young man would never wake from his stupor. Upon reaching the Dragon's Gate and placing the youth in the care of the castle healers, the fear had settled some. Now they awaited the repercussions from their actions.

"We wait."

Diamante frowned. "A foolish reason. That Duke tried to kill us and damn near succeeded! That's proof enough for me that he has gone against the Regent."

"Yes, but we're soldiers, Diamante. Macky already told me that he has to explain it to the Regent. He put it simply, 'a soldier is meant to fight, and politicians are meant to bicker about the reasons for fighting.'"

"Feh, seems a waste of time."

"I feel the same, but the Regent said he wants to talk with him. If we need to wait, then we will."

Diamante sighed, again resting his muzzle on his hands.

From down the hallway, the metallic squeal of the mechanical lift echoed along the walls as it crested the shaft and stopped at their level. The tick tack of clawed feet followed, the sounds growing louder as someone rushed to the Regent's audience chamber. The huff puff of breath followed, and a figure nearly skidded to a stop before Fedrich and Diamante. Fedrich recognized the white and yellow dress that Eria wore, bulky and water resistant. It was her only formal clothing aside from her uniform, but it stood out even worse in a land that only had occasional rain.

"He's awake!" Eria shouted with a giddy smile.

Fedrich stood, noticing that Diamante had done the same. "How is he?"

"The healers said he is very weak, but he just opened his eyes! He said my name! He's finally okay!"

He looked at his elder, and the man nodded. They were both of the same thought.

"Come on, we gotta see him."

She led her two superiors back down the hallway, pausing only long enough to tug the door to the mechanized lift open and get inside. Tugging the proper lever sent the cage down in a rush, wind dulling their hearing. A near minute later the lift whined to a halt, Eria pushing the door open and leaping out before it fully stopped. Fedrich followed her rush, mildly amused at her disregard for safety about something that worried her from the start. They flew down hallways and open doors, drawing eyes from the common people who dwelled within the grand walls of the castle. Eria then came to a stop by a nondescript door, one of many in the guest halls.

"He's here." She gasped a breath, then pulled the door open.

Inside it was the same as many rooms, only this one was immaculate in upkeep and had few personal decorations. White was the dominant color of the room, a standard kept by all races when it came to the injured. Something about it must be pleasing to the senses of a doctor, Fedrich considered.

"Back so soon?" Perce asked from a chair next to an occupied bed.

"Yep!" Eria gleamed like the winner of a race.

Perce winced at her tone. "Be quieter. He's still tired."

"Right, right..." She looked at her fellows in the doorjamb. "Well, come on, get inside and close the door."

Fedrich did as he was bid, closing the latch quietly. He walked to the side of the bed and took a long look at his fellow knight, and it wasn't much of an improvement since last. Winston was prone on the bed, sheets drawn to his shoulders and one arm lying on top. The arm was bandaged tightly, blood still evident on the strips. It was infected, and the healers were most concerned about keeping it from spreading. His torn ear was missing the upper point, but it had scarred over with patient spells and stitches. The eye was still closed tightly, covered in gritty scabs. The healers, in private, said that he may have lost sight in that eye, but it was too soon to tell. The rest of his body had done well, bandaged and recovering naturally.

Diamante sat on the edge of the bed, quiet. Fedrich knew that this was not the time to bicker as teacher and student, but to offer solace as one man to another. He knew that the harsh words for the foolishness his student did was improper, it seemed.

"You awake, boy?" Diamante asked quietly.

Winston murmured something, but it was too quiet to hear. Diamante leaned in, and Winston repeated it with more effort.

_"...Thirty eight..."_

"Eh?"

"That's how many he killed in there, Sir." Perce indicated solemnly. "He keeps on repeating it. I think he wanted you to know..."

"Well..." Diamante sat up, considering the statement. "That ain't bad, whelp, but you got whipped good for it! If you had got out of there in one piece, then I'd be impressed."

"I don't think-"

"Listen carefully, Winston. Look at me." Diamante ignored Fedrich's words, looking intently at his student. The wounded youth looked back with one tired eye, paying attention despite his exhaustion. "Your heritage is a weakness, Winston, so don't rely on it. If you ever go over again, I'll kick you out. There's no place for a madman in my ranks. Do you understand?"

_"...Yes."_

"Good, then you get some rest and keep your strength up."

Diamante stood from the bed, then walked to the door and opened it. "I'm getting some sleep myself. Keep an eye on them, Fedrich?"

"Sure thing."

"Thank you." He stepped out and closed the door.

Fedrich took a deep, cleansing breath. The room smelled like soap and flowers, anything to erase the terrible scent of a festering wound or the dead. It unnerved him a little, that such normal scents would be so interlined with pain and dying. The door opened again, and two people stepped inside. Fedrich looked at them, seeing Diamante and a thin page next to him. He arched his eyebrows, and the elder knight motioned to the attendant.

"Something from your friend, Mackenzie."

He was mildly curious as to why Macky would write a letter, but knew he was a busy man in Lindblum. "What is it?"

"He writes of the Regent's orders concerning the events in Coral Cove." The page answered in a worn tone. He lifted a curled length of parchment and placed a finger near the top, marking the line.

"Regarding the events within Coral Cove, the Regent has spoken thus: Duke Jon Peradin has shown his utmost disrespect to this nation and me by assaulting its messengers. By allowing mercenaries from the far north to make anchor in our lands with intent to use their numbers is not only an illegal act concerning the trade of stolen goods, but a violation of common law. Such an act cannot be tolerated by this nation. Under the powers granted to me by birthright and by my standing as Regent of Lindblum, I hereby revoke Jon Peradin of his titles and honors granted to him by Cid Fabool the eighth. A letter of warning will be sent to all noble houses to make aware the punishment given to those who break the laws of this nation."

"To Sir Castor and Sir Halbred, I offer my sincere apologies for the events that occurred during your time with Inquisitor Terrace. Had I been aware of the overt hostilities perpetuated by Jon Peradin and his men, I would not have sent you in such poor company. In two days hence I shall order a battalion of soldiers and the Viltgance _Seraph's Call_ to Coral Cove with orders to remove Jon Peradin from his position and to disband the gathered mercenaries by peace or by force. While your honor may have been tarnished by escaping to tend to your wounded, you shall stay within the castle and recover from your wounds. Upon a later date I shall place Jon Peradin on trial for his crimes, and you shall testify against him as you see fit. In this manner, justice will prevail. So said by the Regent of Lindblum, Cid Fabool the ninth."

"P.S. I'm sorry that you all got caught up in this. I wish I could meet with you in person, but a man of the Regent is rarely with free time. Relax and enjoy the city, you've definitely earned a break. I'll try and see if I can arrange for you to get a private meeting with Jon so you can return the favors he's due. Sincerely, Macky."

The page handed the paper to Diamante, then excused himself with a quick bow at the waist. The elder knight stepped inside again and closed the door, passing the letter to Fedrich. He reread the words, glad that the Regent wouldn't make them go back to the field so soon. Winston was in poor shape, and Perce still shouldered burdens with a wince and grumble. He was glad that the students didn't fare any worse in Coral Cove. This was the kind of thing that could break a young man's spirit, yet they seemed in good humor despite it all.

"So?" Perce asked his peers. "We rest and wait for new orders?"

Fedrich nodded. "We rest, but I don't think we'll be waiting for long..."


End file.
